Aftermath
by Lartovio
Summary: -"Gwen's blood ran cold. Her mouth fell open slightly, and she was suddenly, painfully aware of how cold the hand on her arm was. That wasn't warm human flesh. That felt like..."- My take on what happens between the night with the lizard and the end of the movie. Chapter nineteen is up!
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note added many months after publishing, important parts in bold_**

I must address something. I've had a lot of reviews recently about how "I'm not realistic to Spider-Man" and "u now gwen dies rite lol" even "I can't wait until TASM2 so all the Gwen-centric fics will stop" so** I just want you guys to know that this _is _a Gwen and Peter fic, and since it's the months between the battle with Dr. Connors and the end of the movie**_ like I clearly stated in the description_**, they're struggling with staying away from each other** and all. What of the comics I haven't read, I read _about _online. I have an OC relative of Aunt May's (who almost everyone loves), and** my Peter is a little wimpier than you'd like to see**. **But he is_ freaking new to being a hero, has no freaking formal training, and the injuries he sustains would be deadly to anybody. _Plus, this bad guy beats the snot out of him** and I believe is an upgrade from Doctor Connors. With all this in mind, you may read on! Enjoy, please!

* * *

Peter dragged his hand over his face. It came back bloodier than it already had been. He stopped in front of his house. He knew he should march through the front door and just come clean to Aunt May, he knew he needed to let her know he was alright. One thing he knew well was that he needed to wash his face. Instead, he sighed. His to-do list had to be about a mile long.

He put his hands on one of the columns that held up the porch. He could easily climb up and go through his window, just collapse into bed... With his suit still on underneath his clothes and covered in grime head to toe? No way. He peeled his hands off the column and turned around.

Opening the door as silently as he could, hoping he could slip up the stairs without Aunt May noticing and put off the great revealing of Spidey for another day. No such luck. Peter looked up right into Aunt May's eyes. He leaned his head back and grinned as best as he could, but it turned into a grimace as the cut on his lip reopened.

Aunt may stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

Peter shut the door all the way and took a few hobbled steps toward her. He opened the front pocket of his backpack and pulled a carton of eggs out.

Aunt May gave him the saddest look, took the eggs, and set them on the counter behind her. She opened her arms, and Peter fell into them without a moment's hesitation, his bag falling to the floor.

He tried not to put too much weight on her at the same time he tried not to collapse. She murmured something in his ear and ran her fingers through her hair, like she used to when he was little. He broke down. A sob escaped his lips and he wrapped his arms around her back. He let the hot tears leave wet trails in their wake, the sobs wracking his aching body.

"Rough night," he mumbled through the tears.

It was true. All in one evening he had destroyed his school, been arrested by the NYPD, nearly had his identity blown, been shot in the leg, nearly gotten his girlfriend killed more than once, cured a deranged lizard man, stopped said deranged lizard man from creating more lizard men, caused his girlfriend's father to be mortally wounded, and made a promise to his girlfriend's now deceased father to break up with her. If that wasn't a rough night, what in hell was?

"Sweetheart..." She rubbed his back, and even her light touch hurt.

Had she figured it out, who Spider-Man was? "Aunt May, I'm sorry, so sorry. It's me, he's me- I'm him." Peter stuttered. So much for a great revealing. He couldn't get a single coherent sentence out of his mouth. Aunt May simply shushed him and guided him to the couch. He sat down and continued trying to talk through the tears of exhaustion. "Doctor Connors was the lizard, I was responsible for creating him. Started in Oscorp, sneaking around, bit by a spider..."

Aunt May had a hard time understanding her nephew. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and much to her surprise, he drew back with a hiss of pain. Very suddenly, it clicked. Peter was Spider-Man. That fight that had taken place not too long ago, that had been her boy in it, and he was hurt. Overcoming how stunned she was by the realization, she commanded, "Peter, take your shirt off."

Peter started to stand. "I'm fine. I-I'll just go upstairs and sleep it off-"

"That is nonsense Peter. Sit down and take off your shirt."

It was true that he was hurt and he was tired, but what right did he have to claim his aunt's care? She must have been hurt by the news, he had lied and kept secrets from her, why shouldn't she be? She was tired from staying up all hours waiting for him to come home, she had worried endlessly for his very life. It wasn't fair for her to care for him when he had done such a sucky job caring for her.

Peter shook his head and tried to stand again, but all Aunt May had to do to keep him down was lightly push his chest. Peter huffed and shot out a web, retrieving the first aid kit on the other side of the room.

Aunt May took the plastic box stiffly, and gave him a look. "No webs in the house. Shirt off."

Peter obeyed, taking his shirt off very slowly, and pulling his suit down to his waist.

She put a hand over her mouth. His torso was bruised black and blue in several places, making her wonder if any ribs had been broken. There were deep cuts across his chest and minor scrapes every where. His arms and shoulders were bruised as well.

"Oh, Peter," she breathed.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. He figured now wasn't the time to tell her he had a bullet in his leg.

"You're a horrible liar." She pulled a bottle of antiseptic and a rag out of the box, and began cleaning the cuts on his chest. "Peter, promise me something." She said quietly.

_No, not another promise._ Peter had made one too many promises that night, a promise he was _already_ having a hard time keeping. Nevertheless, he asked what his Aunt May wanted of him.

"Don't let Spider-Man change who you are."

Peter looked away from his Aunt May's pleading eyes. "Can't." Being Spider-Man had already changed him so much, to say that he wouldn't any more would be a lie. Now Peter had seen death, he had seen the mad side of science, he had heard shrieks of pure terror from those he couldn't help, he had looked into the dying eyes of a man who gave up his life to help him. He had turned himself into a wanted man. How could that not change him? Sure, he was safe for now, since Captain Stacy had told his men to leave him be, but what would the new police chief say? Certainly nothing in Spider-Man's favor. In a matter of days there could be a price on his head. "I can't make that promise. Spider-Man is part of who I am."

There was a long silence. "I understand..." Another silence. "Well, you can at least promise you'll be home on time for dinner."  
Peter smiled. That was a promise he could live with making.


	2. Chapter 2

The bell startled Peter awake. He peeled his head off of his desk and began packing up his backpack, fuming to himself for falling asleep. He would have to find someone to borrow notes from.

"Mr. Parker, your test." Mrs. Deponte said, placing a sheet of paper on Peter's desk. "Please attempt to do better next time."

Peter blinked at the page. She must have made a mistake. This is ridiculous! A D minus? He had _never_ gotten a score in math this low! _Aunt May if going to freaking murder me. How can I take this home?_

Peter had a moment of panic. Aunt May knows _everything._ Even the things she doesn't know. She'll find out what Peter has been doing, why he hadn't been studying. What has Peter been doing exactly? What she told him not to, that's what.

Last week when he'd stumbled in the door half asleep and half dead, he'd had to tell her sooner or later that he had a bullet in his leg. It wasn't as if he could leave it there forever. Aunt May had promptly freaked out, called an ambulance, and made up a not very dependable cover story for how Peter had been shot. Noon the next day, Aunt May and Peter had returned home, the latter on crutches. That day was uneventful. Peter spent it on the couch watching the news. As it turned out, people thought Spider-Man had been killed. Half the reporters were happy about it, the other half were upset.

That night Aunt May had made sure he was in bed before she went to bed. She told him that if he tried to get up before eight the next morning, he would pay. A difficult thirty minutes later he had managed to get his suit on and was out the window. His suit was still torn and covered in blood and grime, but he really needed to get out. It wasn't as if he was going out looking for a fight, he just needed to do some web-slinging to clear his head. He made sure to stay out of sight. Maybe it was better if the press thought Spider-Man was dead for now.

Peter then proceeded to do that every night since, and had managed to keep both the press and Aunt May unaware. Between web-slinging, keeping an eye on the news, and patching up his suit, Peter had hardly had any time to study for this math test.

_Really, you'd think being a super hero would make you more dependable, not less reliable. _Peter thought with a sigh. _Only your second day back at school and you're bringing home a D in math._

Peter shoved the test in his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He grabbed his crutches and stood up awkwardly. Apparently, he was healing extremely fast -Peter blamed the enhanced DNA- and didn't need the crutches anymore, but he still felt that he should make it look like he was recovering. Better safe than sorry, y'know.

Peter spotted Gwen in the hallway and panicked a little. He turned around and started walking the other way.

"Peter!" There was the sound of several dropped books and heels clicking as Gwen ran to him. "Peter!"

The only reason Peter stopped was because it sounded almost like she was crying.

Gwen stared at him for a moment, then touched one of the healing cuts on his face. She cupped his cheek in her hand.

Several times while web-slinging, Peter had found himself heading in the direction of Gwen's house. Then he would see Captain Stacy's eyes as he made him promise, the trust he had seen in them before he closed his eyes the final time. He had been the reason Captain Stacy died, how on earth could Gwen forgive him? How on earth could he go back on a promise he made to a dead man? If Peter didn't know any better, he might say that he was being haunted.

Peter placed a hand over Gwen's, and felt a stab of guilt in his chest. He closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the tears falling from Gwen's.

"Everyone said Spider-Man died." She said in a broken whisper.

Peter's eyes snapped open. How could he have been that inconsiderate? Her dad died in that fight, and he let her thing that he had, too? "Gwen, oh God, Gwen. I am _so _sorry." What else to say to her, what can he say? How can he make things any better?

Gwen shook her head and before Peter could do anything, she was standing on her tip-toes kissing him. Right in the middle of the hallway.

For a split second, Peter wanted to run. He couldn't let himself do this. He couldn't love her, because he had made a promise not to. Then, he decided he would allow himself one last guilty pleasure. He let his crutches fall to the ground and kissed her with everything he had left in him. He poured everything he could into that kiss, hoping that would make it easier for them to let go. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew that it would only make it hurt more.

The second Gwen broke the kiss, Peter dropped to the ground on his good leg, grabbed the crutches and hobbled off as fast as he could.

* * *

Peter tripped and cursed loudly. He gripped the handles of the crutches so tightly that the metal crumbled in his hands. Enhanced strength and agility, yet every freaking crack in the sidewalk managed to trip him.

_Y'know what? Just screw these._ Peter took a few steps without the crutches, and while his leg didn't feel as dependable as it should, it didn't hurt. So he rested the crutches on his shoulder and walked the rest of the way home without them. He didn't even bother to pretend using them as he approached the house.

Aunt May sat on the front porch reading a book. Peter managed to catch the title of it before she closed it and laid it cover down in her lap. He resisted the urge to laugh. "_Raising Different Teens_?" Somehow, Peter didn't think she was going to find anything about coping with your teenager crawling up walls and taking out thugs.

Aunt May ignored his mocking her reading choice. "Peter Parker, you put those crutches on the ground and use them!"

"Aunt May, I'm fine. Not even a limp."

She gave him an unhappy look, but didn't argue further. "Let's get inside. It looks like it's going to rain soon."

Peter went straight up the stairs and into his room. He only had a few more cuts to patch up on his suit and he was done.

Throughout the day, Peter had decided that it was time that Spidey showed his face to New York again. Sure, being Spider-Man was difficult, but it was his responsibility now. Without him, the lizard would have destroyed New York. Then again, without Peter the lizard wouldn't have ever existed.

He grabbed a key from his desk and put it in the only electrical outlet in the room that wasn't being used. A small drawer popped out of the wall, just big enough for him to fit his suit. It was a near perfect place to hide it, because who in their right mind was going to put a key in an electrical socket?

Only issue was, his suit was gone.

For the second time that day, Peter went into panic mode. He slammed the drawer shut and locked it back, throwing the key on his desk. He made sure the window was still locked and looked for any signs that someone might have been there. His web-shooters and gloves were still in his nightstand drawer, the last place he had left them. Everything was there except his suit.

And suddenly the situation had Aunt May written all over it.

Peter practically flew down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Where's my suit?"

Aunt May continued preparing dinner casually, not even looking up. "What makes you think I took it?"

"Really." Peter deadpanned. "Really?" He started to walk out of the kitchen and turned right back around. "You're going to ask that. Okay, I really need to finish patching up my suit. Can I please have my suit back?"

"Why the rush? You're not going anywhere as Spider-Man with that leg of yours for another few days."

Peter sighed and sat down in a chair. He would get the suit from her later. "Aunt May, you realize that I'm going back out there eventually?" She didn't respond. "I can't ignore it and act like it never happened."

Aunt May turned around to face Peter. Her eyes were filled with tears. "I know. I wish... I just want you to be safe."

Peter clenched his jaw and looked away. "I have to do this."

"No you _don't_ Peter. It isn't your job."

That hit a nerve for Peter. That night he had tumbled through her window, not knowing where else to go, Gwen had told him the same thing. He stood up and walked upstairs. He walked into his room and his phone was buzzing on his desk. The screen told that he had seven missed calls from Gwen.

Peter considered calling back, but sat down and listened to the voice mail instead. _How am I supposed to manage staying away from her?_

_"Do you ever answer your phone? What was up with you running off today? What happened last week with the lizard? Why haven't you let me know you were okay? We need to talk, Peter. Call me." _Gwen's voice sounded somewhere between angry and teary.

Peter put his head on his folded arms and cried.

_**Author's Notes: **Oh geez, Peter just can't win. TT~TT But seriously, I hate this. I tweaked it a lot already, and completely re-wrote it once... but I still don't love it. Aaaanyways, thanks to all of you that take the time to favorite follow and review! (I still love this fandom! X3)_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Acknowledgments: **__Oh dear God. I have gotten fifty emails or more in less than twenty four hours of having the last chapter published. I love all of you so much! Now, I'm going to thank everybody. This could take a while. Those who are in bold I would like to thank a lot. I wish I could thank you all individually, but something tells me you guys would like this chapter sometime this year._

_ Thanks to __**Heamic08, **__Ilovetoread12398, Jensenite42, __**BeautyandtheBeast101575, F1R3FLY, **__LighteningTheifLover, Flam3nco, Energeezer, __**Harryfan94, Vladimir The Hamster, .waves, **__kickass800825, __coconut0111, bookwyrm31, __**Kohryu,**__ Pinegirl14, sarabara, Sumiko Mikazuki, boundenid,__**TheManWithNoMind,**__ emenemdj,starr1095, snowflake13300, softballer8931, __**pinkoreo0210, **__aaaand last but totally not least, the guest reviewers! I still don't think I got everybody. O_O I have never received this kind of response from a fandom before, thanks so much!_

* * *

"Peter, come get the door, would you?" Aunt May called from the kitchen.

Peter turned off the news, something he watched too much of these days, and walked to the door. He saw Gwen standing there and his heart dropped down into the basement. He opened the door and stepped out, shutting it behind him.

"Where have you been? My father _died._"

"Hi." He said quietly. Peter couldn't bring himself to look at her, planting his gaze on the ground instead.

Gwen crossed her arms, willing herself not to cry. It was too late for Peter. "The funeral was yesterday. They made speeches and fired rifles. Two of my teachers showed up. Everyone was there but you."

Peter shook his head. "Can't. I can't do this. I can't do this." He looked up at her and looked away again. He couldn't meet her eyes. He couldn't even look at her face, it only made it harder. "I'm sorry." This was the hardest thing Peter had ever done. Harder than defeating the lizard, harder than loosing his uncle. He knew after this that there was no getting her back. She'll hate him for sure. That's alright though, because it will make it easier for her to let go. Peter knew he would always love her anyway.

"What are you saying?" Her voice cracked. She asked, even though she knew exactly what he meant.

"I can't see you anymore. Gwen, I can't." Tears rolled down his cheeks as he bit back a sob.

Gwen swallowed hard. She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. She knew why he couldn't. _He's choosing Spider-Man over me._ Gwen knew the thought was unfair, but it was how it looked. She knew that giving up Spider-Man shouldn't even be an option. She knew why he couldn't see her. It was dangerous, if anyone were to ever find out his identity they would go after her before anyone else.

Gwen opened her umbrella and turned around, walking down the stairs without another word. She stopped on the sidewalk and turned slowly, a tear on her cheek. "He made you promise, didn't he? To stay away. I wouldn't get hurt?"

Peter said nothing, even though there were so many things he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted to say goodbye. He wanted to run after her and put his hands on her face and kiss her in the rain. He wanted to repeatedly tell her he loves her and always will. He wanted to shoot out a web and pull her up the stairs into his arms and never let her go again. He couldn't. He didn't. Peter felt empty and cold. Tears still streamed down his face and his eyes were fixed to the ground.

Gwen nodded and turned around. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve. He opened the door and went inside, leaning against it.

"What a pretty girl." Aunt May said from behind him.

Peter laughed without humor. "That's what Uncle Ben said." He shifted and leaned against the wall.

"Did you ask her out?"

Peter shook his head and drew in a shaky breath. "Can't."

"Why not?" Aunt May asked, slightly taken aback. He didn't think that she wouldn't want him dating, did he? Because she would much rather him have a girlfriend and go out with her than for him to go out and fight crime.

"I'm no good for her." There was a lump in his throat that he almost couldn't speak past.

"Peter," she began sternly "if there's one thing you are, it's good. And anyone who thinks otherwise can talk to me." She knew something was wrong when that didn't do so much as make Peter smile. She walked back into the kitchen and told Peter to follow her. "Who exactly is she?"

Peter shook his head and sat down.

"Peter we are going to discuss this. Obviously it's upsetting you." He still wouldn't answer her. "Superhero or not, you're still a teenager and you don't have to handle everything on your own."

"Her name is Gwen. She's the daughter of Captain Stacy, the one who died helping Spider-Man, me, take out the lizard."

Aunt May nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"We were dating, and her dad made me promise... right before he... he made me promise I would leave her. Out of my life. Out of Spider-Man's." Peter put his head in his hands. His next few words were muffled. "And I'm gonna, because I love her."

Aunt May sank into the chair across from him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The hero always saved the day and got the girl. Then again, this was the real life. Peter almost hadn't been able to save the day. "Why?"

"So she won't get hurt. I can't drag her into this."

Not for the first time while raising Peter, Aunt May was at a loss for what to say.

"It's okay." Peter said, dropping his hands into his lap. "Don't feel sorry for me. I-I can handle this." Peter went upstairs and Aunt May heard his door shut.

Sighing, she stood and pulled a stool to the counter. She stepped up on it and reached into the cabinet above the stove. Peter's suit tumbled out. She shook it out and held it up. She'd finished patching up his suit, but you could tell where she had done it. Her stitches stood out, while he had made his disappear. "I knew I did something good by forcing that kid to learn how to sew when I was still good at it." She muttered to herself. Aunt May climbed the stairs and knocked on Peter's door. She heard a thud and the door opened a few seconds later.

"Here. I finished patching it up for you." She said, shoving the suit into his hands. "Go. Be safe."

Peter gave her a watery smile and a hug. "Thanks Aunt May. Just web-slinging tonight." Then he shut the door. Minutes later he was out the window.

* * *

**_Edit:_**_ Yeah, I took out that last part because it was just... *shudders* Sorry I haven't updated yet. I'm having issues with tests and best friends being asses and deciding if I want to be friends with said best friend anymore. ANYWAY. Thanks again to all you guys supporting me._


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Notes: **__Thanks for the feedback guys, I know that last chapter was rather disappointing, but I'm going to try to do better this time. Some of you are saying there needs to be more of Peter fighting, and don't doubt that I can write a kick butt fight scene, but I'm not going to yet. I have this big bad guy that I'm going to introduce, I promise. I've been having issues with people visiting and best friends hating. I've decided that I'm done with this girl. And it's sad because she's my best friend and one of two (real) friends I have. The other lives an entire day's drive from me. Like, thirteen hours. Anyways. Enough of my crappy personal life. Enjoy this chapter._

* * *

Peter paced. He paced and paced. Not the back-and-forth across four feet of your bedroom kind of pacing, but a walk up the stairs, go down the hallway, go back downstairs, loop through the kitchen and repeat kind.

Aunt May sat in the living room with a mug of tea in her hands, watching without a word as Peter walk past her repeatedly. She wondered when he would tire of the constant moving. As far as Aunt May knew, Peter had never had this much stamina. Not that it took too much energy to walk up the stairs; more that he had been doing it for forty minutes without stopping once.

It was nearly eleven in the morning on a Sunday. Neither aunt or nephew had any plans. After a small breakfast of frozen waffles, Peter had begun pacing and Aunt May had taken her seat on the couch.

Peter crossed his arms and watched the ground while he paced. _It's been two weeks since I've spoken to Gwen. I'm surprised I've managed to stay away this long. Peter you're such an arse. You shouldn't be proud of yourself for ignoring her for two weeks. What else am I supposed to do, though?I can't break my promise... and honestly, I should have thought on my own to leave her out of all this. Even if Gwen doesn't think I'm doing her a favor, I know I am. Think of how easily the lizard found out who you were. I'm lucky that he didn't go right for Gwen. He could have hurt so many other people by coming to the school, though... This sucks. Spider-Man sucks._

Peter used to be able to clear his mind or focus by pacing, but it seemed nothing short of web-slinging did that anymore. He was itching to throw his costume on and go outside until he couldn't feel his fingers or face. Except it was snowing, and it had been for two days. Almost two feet had accumulated. For as much as Peter wanted to go outside, he was apprehensive about the snow. He had never particularly liked snow before, but there was more uncertainty to add to it now.

_What if my webbing doesn't like the cold? Doesn't cold make people like, lethargic? Seriously, what do spiders do during the winter?_

Peter's thoughts jumped around from one topic to another haphazardly. He thought about checking the news, but he knew that the crime was temporarily low because of the absurd amounts of snow. Plus, sitting down didn't sound fun. He was restless.

Peter stopped just as he was coming into the living room. _What's this called? Cabin fever or something. I'll call it stuffed in a quiet house during Christmas break with your aunt and no communication with the outside world to the point that you're driven insane syndrome. _With a sigh, Peter realized he didn't have anyone to have contact with in the outside world. He didn't have one real friend he could go to.

"Peter," Aunt May said gently "are you alright?" She glanced at the clock. He had managed to go a full hour before stopping.

He focused on Aunt May, pulling himself back into reality with a frown. Suddenly his thoughts snapped back to the reason he had originally begun pacing, Gwen. _Get over her, Parker. _"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He stood there a moment, then plopped down beside Aunt May on the couch. "Aunt May, I'm bored." He announced it as if he was five years old again and he wanted her to play a game with him.

She smiled. "Well, go clean your room." That was what every respectable guardian tells their child to do when they suffer from boredom, right?

Peter shook his head. "I did that last night."

"Hm, we could watch a movie, then?"

Before Peter could answer, the power went out. He grimaced at his aunt in the semi-dark. "I think we should go out."

Aunt May laughed, a genuine laugh he hadn't heard in weeks. That set him to laughing, too. They laughed until their sides ached and tears gathered in their eyes.

"Aunt May, I think I know what I should do." Peter said, once the both of them could breathe again. "I'm gonna get a job."

"That's a wonderful idea, Peter. For now, I think we should go find someplace warm to spend the power outage."

An hour later, they walked through Manhattan on the freshly scraped sidewalks. With Christmas only two weeks out and the city all decked in green and red to match, Aunt May and Peter were happier than they had been for a while.

Still, Gwen plagued Peter's mind. _Just get her out of your head. You can't have her, and she certainly won't have you after all this._

"What kind of job do you think you'll get, Peter?"

Peter shook his head. As an answer and to get the snow out of his hair. "I dunno. It'll have to be something flexible." he answered after a while.

Aunt May nodded her agreement. "Something you enjoy doing."

They rounded a corner and the Empire State building came into view. The two walked past shops with all sorts of things displayed in the windows. Aunt May stopped to admire the sparkly window of a crystal shop.

"Excuse me."

Peter turned at a tap on the shoulder. He was faced with a young woman with blonde hair. His heart skipped a beat as he thought it was Gwen, then was quickly let down when it wasn't.

"Could you take a picture for us?" She held out a disposable camera.

"Oh, yeah, sure."

The woman went to stand beside her boyfriend and they posed for the camera. They stood in front of the Empire State building, so he assumed they wanted it in the picture. He turned the camera on its side and snapped the picture.

She took the camera and thanked him.

Peter put his hands in his pocket and smiled in response.

Aunt May looped her arm through his with her hand resting in the crook of his arm. "What about photography?" She began walking again and he plodded along beside her. "I've seen some of your pictures, they're very good."

Peter shrugged, then nodded. "I could do that, yeah. What kind of photography?"

"You could apply to a few studios. I think the one just a few blocks from our house is hiring."

Peter looked ahead and saw that they were coming up on a little cafe tucked in between two larger stores. It was one that Uncle Ben used to take them to after the family had gone ice skating. He swept Aunt May along into the shop with him.

She stopped in the doorway for a moment, taking in the store. "Why, Peter, we haven't been here in ages." She sighed, a sort of sad yet content sigh.

"Here, you sit down and I'll get us some cocoa." Peter said quietly, guiding his aunt to a booth in the corner.

Peter bought two paper cups full of hot chocolate and loaded them with whipped cream. He stuck a candy cane in each of them, grabbed one of the free newspapers off the counter, and sat down across from Aunt May. They sipped their cocoa in quiet, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Peter eventually picked up the newspaper.

Right on the front cover was an article about him. Well, Spider-Man. It read: _"Spider-Man! Hero or Criminal? Reward for Evidence!"_ Under the headline was a cartoon of Spidey's hand holding a wad of cash.

Peter thought about the first time he had tried to make money off his Spider-Man advantage. It had ended with a ruined camera and his identity discovered by the lizard. By then, he had a new camera and this time his name wasn't stickered across the front in bold.

A freelance photographer. Peter had heard that freelance work was fun, but not really a dependable source of income.

He figured it was better than what they were getting from Uncle Ben's life insurance. It was hardly enough to pay the bills, but they were pulling through. To think that he could help made Peter excited.

_I'll need photographic evidence of me doing good stuff. I'll make sure to hide the camera and set it to continuously take pictures. Maybe I should get a digital camera, film costs too much._

Right there, Peter made plans to go out and get some pictures later. He had better claim whatever reward there was before anyone else claimed it with what the thought to be evidence of him being the criminal. He was going to have another long night ahead of him.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** Yeah. Boring chapter that's setting up for the exciting stuff. Thanks guys for waiting on me, sorry to disappoint. Good news, though, is that the next chapter should be updated sooner this time. Goodnight all~_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Notes:** Geez, guys, I tried to publish this HOURS ago, but my mom decided we were going shopping! Anyways, I decided that this will be easier and less time consuming than responding to each of you via PM, but I still get to respond to you all!_

_**Waffleninja: **Welcome to FanFiction then! Thank you very much :) I hate angst, acutally, so the bits of humor are really to keep me from bashing my head against a wall I think **Heamic08** said something like that. Well, now I'm going to have to shove it in here somewhere, because I like the idea too. Thanks for reviewing!_

_**JexxTheScibe: **(I love your username) Thank you. I figured it was too cliché, but all you guys like it enough :) I've thought about it, but I just don't know. I don't think I'd be too good at writing Flash and the opportunity hasn't presented itself. Haha, all squeeing is welcome here, manly or not XD (squees with you)_

_**Thanks also to BeatuyAndTheBeast101575, Topaz Skye, Loki Holmes, Heamic08, and Kohryu!**_

* * *

"Aunt May, I'm going out for a while." Peter called as he came down the stairs. He rounded the corner to find Aunt May fast asleep on the couch. It was only eight at night, hours before Aunt May normally even considered sleep. He supposed going out made her tired. Once he started thinking about it, he wasn't sure he could remember exactly when the last time she had gone out for fun was. Peter smiled sadly at her and picked her book up off her chest, marking her spot and setting it on the side table.

He walked into the kitchen and got out the pad of sticky notes and a pen, writing out a message that said he was going to look into some photography opportunities and he'd be out late. It wasn't a lie, he just left out several major factors. Peter shouldered his backpack and walked out the front door, locking it behind him.

Peter's worries with the snow were quickly dispelled as the night went on. His webbing seemed to work fine, if a little stiffly, and he had no issue sticking to the walls. Concerns past, he began looking for a fight to get pictures of.

He stopped a jewel thief, a holdup at a bank, and several other petty thefts around the city. He took pictures of every fight, and he was satisfied they would get at least some of the reward offered by the Daily Bugle.

Peter released the web in his hand and flew ten feet before grabbing the side of a stucco building, not a great feeling. He crawled up the side anyway, and took a perch on a stone gargoyle. He pulled his digital camera out and began looking through the pictures. "That one... I like that one. That one sucks... that one really sucks." He muttered to himself as he flipped through the pictures. His voice was carried away on the wind, forced down into the streets and carried along with the traffic below. Peter slipped the camera into an empty pocket on his belt and looked down at the gargoyle he sat on. He brushed a thin layer of snow off its face.

"You must get lonely up here. I know how it feels. Sometimes it's amazing... being on top of the world... but other times it's so lonely. I mean, who hangs out on the roofs of skyscrapers? Then again... who talks to gargoyles?" Peter shook his masked head. "Eh, who cares. You're a super listener. I think I'll call you... Bruce." Peter leaped into the street below, catching himself with a web and swinging away. Just because he could, he waved goodbye to Bruce, his new and only friend.

Several times on the way back to the dark alley he had hidden his clothes in, Peter had stopped to help people. He was beginning to get into the rough parts of town, though, where people handled their own fights. It was the part of town that when they drove through, Uncle Ben used to call it the ghetto and start trying to talk slang.

Peter smiled at the thought. It was getting easier to think of Uncle Ben without being too sad, but it still gave Peter a heavy heart to think about him. He figured the closer they got to Christmas, the harder it would get for both him and Aunt May.

A shriek for help brought Peter out of his thoughts and into action mode. He dropped into an alley where the cry had come from and saw a woman lying unconscious on the ground. He cursed under his breath. Checking her pulse, he was immensely relieved to find she was okay. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man run around the corner onto the street with a purse trailing behind. Peter took off after him.

He found the man leaning against a lit streetlamp casually, rifling through the purse. "Hey Spider-Man." The man rasped. "You wanna play a game?"

The man was large. He had to be a body builder or something. Peter was genuinely intimidated by him, which says a lot. He had blond buzz-cut hair and very odd features. His nose looked almost like some sort of animal's, pressed up against his face and scrunched. The man grinned and Peter was surprised by the mouth full of pointed teeth.

Peter shook off his surprise and responded to the man. "Yeah, let's play return the purse before you get hurt."

"Big talk, for such a small bug. I was hopin' you'd put up a fight."

Peter huffed. "You want a fight? Come get it." He was prepared for whatever this dude threw at him. He had fought a ten foot tall lizard, for God's sake!

Until the man took that literally.

He pulled the streetlamp out of the concrete and hurled it at Peter. He tried to web away, but wasn't quick enough. He caught it in the stomach and was thrown back six feet into the nearest wall. His head hit the building and he crumpled to the ground. He gasped for air, with one hand clutching the back of his head. As the man approached him, Peter did the only thing he could think and webbed his eyes.

Most of the webbing went behind the man, but some of it ended up on his face. Peter couldn't see straight. He felt like he was on a merry-go-round. Peter groaned and forced himself to his feet. Before he could get his bearings, the man was on him. He narrowly avoided the swing of his fist, but walked right into another. He took the full force of the man's fist in his cheek and was thrown back. He tripped over the lamp post and fell back onto the concrete again. Even though his head barely touched the ground, it was all he could do to suppress a whimper of pain.

_Dear God Parker, this is pathetic. Get up!_

His body refused to respond to him. So instead, he shot two webs, pulled back, and let the tension pull him to the wall. Peter stuck to that wall for all he was worth, trying to steady his breathing. He knew that his mouth was bleeding, he knew that the back of his head was bleeding rapidly, he could feel it slide down his neck and back. "God, this sucks." He murmured. Turning to sit on the wall, he found the man about to play Spidey-ball. With the streetlamp as a bat, and him the ball. He cursed and rolled back onto the rooftop, narrowly avoiding being hit, again.

Suddenly, Peter was angry. He was absolutely, thoroughly, inexplicably angry. Who was this guy? Thinking he could just take down Spider-Man in a few hits? He webbed to the other side of the road, and dropped down behind the man. Though the man was at least a foot taller than him, Peter managed to get him into a headlock and onto the ground. Sitting atop him, Peter flung his fists at his misshapen face over and over.

Peter had never done anything like this before. His moves had always been calculated and strategical, not even while fighting the lizard had he lost control this badly. He was just _done_. He was done with life. With going out every night and having to be a hero for an ungrateful city, with going to school and being mocked for the bruises on his face and punished for tardiness, with having to creep around the house at night, pretending Aunt May wasn't laying upstairs in her bed listening to his every footstep and trying to figure out if he had been hurt. He was simply tired of it all.

He wasn't sure if he even cared as he was hit and flying through the air yet again. A web shot from his wrist and latched onto a building. Before he even realized it he was doing it, he was swinging away again.

Peter fell through his window who knows how much later, grabbing at anything within reach for support. His head was pounding and he had a hard time breathing in his suit. He felt so constricted. He hadn't even bothered to stop and get his clothes on the way home.

He turned his light on and began peeling his suit off his body. All he wanted to do was fall into bed, but he wasn't going to let himself do that in his nasty suit. He pulled a shirt and sweatpants on. Peter caught a look at his face in the mirror on his dresser and froze. There was blood all over his face and his hair was matted with it.

Peter shut his eyes and drew in a painful breath. "Shower." He commanded himself. He grabbed a towel and slowly made his way into the bathroom. He pulled the shower curtain to the side and reached for the hot water knob. He touched the tile. Closing his eyes, he dragged his fingers along the cool tiles until he felt the knob. He opened his eyes and it didn't look like his hand was on the knob. That's when his vision started going out. More than it already had been. He fell to the floor, then let his eyes slide shut.


	6. Chapter 6

Gwen's fingers glided over the keyboard as quickly as she could get them to. Her feelings were poured onto the digital page as she typed in her diary. When her phone rang the first time she allowed herself to stop typing long enough to reject the call, not even looking to see who it was. Then it rang a second time, and she knew it must be some semblance of important, depending on who it was calling. If it was any of her friends, it could be anything ranging from a break-up to a broken nail. When she averted her attention from the computer screen long enough to read the name on the other screen, she saw that it was Peter. Her fingers stilled completely as she stared at her buzzing phone.

She let her hands fall into her lap and leaned back into her chair. _Why on earth would Peter be calling this early in the morning? Why would he be calling at all? This has to be some kind of fluke._

Gwen wasn't mad at Peter. She couldn't make herself, as much as she tried. She was sad, inconsolably heartbroken, but not mad. If she had anyone to be mad at it was her father, though she couldn't make herself mad at him either. She missed them both, more than she ever thought she could.

The question for now was, to answer, or not to answer?

She sighed and picked up the phone, accepting the call and bringing the phone to her ear slowly. Peter said nothing, so she took initiative. "Peter?" The name felt foreign on her tongue, she hadn't spoken it since that day at his house.

"...Is this Gwen Stacy?"

Gwen's eyebrows shot up. That was definitely not Peter's voice. "Yes. Who is this?"

"I'm his Aunt May. I... Peter has been in an accident, I thought you might want to know. He's told me about you."

"Yeah." She breathed. She didn't know what to take from that sentence. Did that mean that she knew that Gwen Knew about Peter? Had Peter told her, then? The whole thing was making her head spin. What kind of accident? A car crash, or a Spider-Man incident? "Is he alright?"

"He's... sleeping."Mrs. Parker answered hesitantly.

"Where are you?"

"The hospital, downtown. The fifth floor."

Gwen nodded, then realized Mrs. Parker couldn't see her. "Thank you." She hung up the phone and jumped up from her desk, not caring when her knee banged against it. She walked a few frantic circles around her bedroom, trying to locate her shoes. She stopped, putting her hand to her forehead, and laughed nervously. "They're by the door, where they always are. Get a grip." She pulled her boots on and grabbed her coat. Before walking out of her room, she stopped and took a deep breath. _What am I doing? This is not what Peter and dad wanted. Whatever was able to put him in the hospital might come after me. That's what they were trying to protect me from._ Gwen wasn't scared though. _Naïve. __Peter won't always be there. He can't win them all._

Gwen walked as fast as her legs would take her to the hospital. It was just around the corner, really, but it was taking entirely too long to get there. Once inside the hospital on the fifth floor, she had a nurse guide her to Peter's room.

It all seemed a little surreal. She had seen Peter as untouchable at first. Then there was the fight with the lizard, and she thought he was gone. She thought he had limped off to some alley and died. Then he just randomly shows up at school, kisses her and runs. She thought she had him again, she had walked home on a cloud. A few days later was her father's funeral, and she still hadn't heard from him. She goes to his house and suddenly he's gone from her again. Slipped right through her fingers.

Now she stands in front of a hospital room, too scared of what she'll see to open the door. Gwen sighed and rested her forehead on the door. When she had said she was in trouble when he'd first told her, she had no idea how true that was.

She grasped the door handle and pushed it open slowly.

Mrs. Parker sat in a chair beside the hospital bed with her hand in Peter's. She gave Gwen a small smile as she walked into the room, shutting the door behind her. She stood on the other end of the bed from Peter's aunt and looked Peter up and down for injuries. The first thing she noticed was horrible bruise that took up most of the left side of his face, then the bandages wrapped tightly around his head. She sank into the other chair, placing her hands in her lap. She wouldn't cross that line, not when he couldn't do a thing about it.

"What happened?" Gwen asked quietly. Her eyes never left his face.

Aunt May rubbed her thumb across Peter's hand and sighed. The early morning sun came in through the mostly drawn blinds and lit the room slightly.

"I woke up at three in the morning when the shower turned on, and when it wasn't off an hour later I got up and knocked, and he didn't answer. I looked in his room and his suit was on the floor and his window was wide open. I knocked again and then opened the door. He- he was unconscious, and bleeding..." She inhaled shakily. "That's the second time I've had to call an ambulance in the past month. The doctors said he has a nasty concussion and they don't know when he'll wake up."

"He's alright, though."

Mrs. Parker looked up at Gwen with wide eyes. "Did you already...?"

"Spider-Man?" Gwen asked in a whisper.

The woman nodded, sighing with relief.

"Can I do anything for you? Have you eaten this morning? Would you like me to get you anything from your house?" Gwen wanted to do something for them. She couldn't just sit here and wait for him to wake up. "I'm here to help."

She felt bad asking, but Gwen seemed to really mean it. "If you insist, I wouldn't mind a change of clothes."

Gwen nodded and stood. "I'll be back. Call me if you think of anything else."

"The front door is unlocked. Thank you so much dear."

* * *

Gwen felt wrong entering the house, just traipsing through the front door without a care, even though she had permission. She had never actually been inside Peter's house. Whenever they had met before it had been during or after school, at her house, or, of course, the times he crawled through her window.

She walked into their living room and looked around. There was a sofa, a few armchairs, and a TV. She walked up the stairs and saw what had to be Mrs. Parker's room to the left, and Peter's door stood right in front of her.

She sighed. All she was asked to do was get Mrs. Parker some real clothes and get out, but the temptation to look in Peter's room was great. Gwen was notorious for making the right decisions... So maybe just this one time, she could let herself get away with it.

Gwen pushed Peter's door open and walked in on a mess. There were clothes scattered across the floor- the most noticeable being his bloodied suit-, things knocked off shelves, and red stains on his carpet. She knelt down slowly, and picked up his mask. It was stiff with dried blood. She tightened her trembling fist around the mask.

_I hate this. I hate Spider-Man. I want Peter back._

Gwen grabbed the suit and located the laundry room next to Mrs. Parker's room. After pulling the belt off the suit, she shoved it suit and mask in the washing machine and then went back to find his bathroom. If he had collapsed there, with the amount of blood on his mask and suit, there was sure to be some on the bathroom floor. She wasn't prepared for quite how much blood there was, though.

After taking a deep breath and steadying herself on the edge of the sink, she set herself to work cleaning it up. Tears fell into the pool of blood as she bent over it on her hands and knees, doing her best to mop it up. There had only been one other time in Gwen's life that she had seen this much blood.

_Thirteen year old Gwen was woken by the sound of her father cursing in the next room over, the bathroom. She blinked up at the dark ceiling, listening to him walk around. The sound of water running, more cursing._

_ Gwen was scared to get up. She was scared to ask her father if he was alright. Despite her fears, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. The cold floor was a shock to her warm feet. Gwen tugged her soft blanket out from underneath the quilt and pulled it around her shoulders, __doubling it up so she wouldn't trip._

_ She padded into the hallway, and swung the door of the bathroom open before she could let her fear keep her from it._

_ Her father sat on the edge of the large bathtub, wearing half of his uniform. His shirt floated across the top of the pink water in the bathtub, torn beyond salvaging. Captain Stacy bore bite and claw marks on his chest and torso. There was blood covering his hands, his body, the white tiles, the blue rugs._

_ Gwen gulped as her father stared at her. He seemed like a deer caught in the headlights, nothing like the man she knew during the day. She dropped the blanket and pushed her sleeves up. Kneeling down beside the tub, she gently pushed her father's hands out of the water. She grabbed her little brother's baby soap and squeezed it into the water, stirring it around with her hand to make it foam. She turned the faucet off and dunked a sponge in the warm water. Then turned to her father and began wiping away the blood on his chest._

_ Gwen put the sponge in her dad's hand and sat back when she finished. "I won't tell mom," She said in a hushed tone. "if you tell me what happened."_

_ "I'm sorry I woke you Gwen."_

_ "Please tell me."_

_ He met his daughter's young eyes. Innocent on the surface, but in the depths he could see intelligence beyond her years. She could handle knowing, and she deserved as much. "We had a man's house surrounded, and he sent out dogs. At least fifteen of them, they attacked us."_

_ Gwen bit her lip. "Did you get the guy?"_

_ He nodded once. "We got the guy."_

_ "You're okay, and the guy is in prison. You've got nothing to be sorry for."_

Now Gwen sat on the floor of Peter Parker's bathroom, sobbing as she mopped up his blood. Peter wasn't okay, and he most likely hadn't got the guy. Furthermore, she didn't have Peter or her dad to protect her anymore. Though she had friends, her brothers and her mother still, Gwen felt so alone. So unprotected. Nobody could quite understand what was going on in her head. Nobody knew what she was going through. Her mom thought she was hanging out at her friend's house for the day, when in all reality she was cleaning up after Spider-Man.

"My life is so screwed up." she said to herself.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **I'm baack! :D Turns out my sister didn't REALLY want to do it, so I never really had to get off anyways. I typed this up today and I'm too lazy to do anything but proofread it. Sorry guys!_

_I realize that this doesn't exactly answer the 'is Peter gonna be okay' question that so many of you asked... but, oh well! The next chapter will explain all. Possibly including the mysterious body builder dude. I'm really surprised you guys didn't guess who it is! Thanks to all my followers and reviewers, I love you guys :D_


	7. Chapter 7

Peter opened his eyes and heard a sound that startled him. It took him a moment to realize that it was his own moan. He felt like he'd been run over by a freight train and then been tumble dried on low for an hour. Every part of his body ached, yet he felt numb. His head throbbed and his eyes protested against the little bit of light coming from a lamp. Once he was able to get his eyes to focus somewhat, he realized he was in a hospital room. His hands clenched into fists.

_Okay, I don't know why I'm here. Just don't freak out, it's just a hospital_.

Peter slowly took in as much of his surroundings as he could without moving his stiff neck. It was a fairly small, generic hospital room. Which he would have been fine with, if he could remember how he had gotten there. Peter strained to remember anything, and finally came up with the gargoyle, the one he named Bruce. That was the last significant thing he remembered.

He put a hand to his head and sighed heavily. He felt bandages, and wondered if he had a concussion. Once he had heard of people being in car accidents and not being able to remember anything a few minutes before the accident. If that was so with him, he wouldn't know who'd done this to him. Or if he had a score to settle.

"Peter?"

Peter's eyes snapped open at his name. Either his ears were hallucinating, or that was Gwen Stacy. He frantically searched the room over and found her sitting up on a couch, hugging a pillow. Her normally carefully styled hair hung loose halfway to her elbows and was frizzed from sleeping. Her mascara was smudged in places. He wasn't sure what to say, how to react. "Sorry I woke you." He mumbled.

She shook her head. "No, you're fine." Her eyes searched him up and down as if trying to prove that to herself. "Um, it's two in the morning. You, uh, hit your head and your aunt called an ambulance, and you slept all day. I told her I would stay the night so that she could go home." Her voice was scratchy from sleeping.

Peter propped himself up on his elbows. The movement made him a little dizzy, so he waited until the room stopped spinning to speak. "Thanks."

Gwen pulled a blanket around her shoulders and tucked her socked feet underneath her. "I'm sorry. About the last time we talked. I... I was just angry. I'm not mad at you, though. I understand."

Peter pulled a couple pillows off the foot of the bed and leaned against them. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, thinking on how to respond. There were still so many things he wanted to say, but he was scared to speak. He didn't trust himself not to say something stupid. "Gwen..." He exhaled shakily. A thousand thoughts battled to exit his mouth at the same time. Peter squashed them all down. "I love you." She perked up a bit at the statement, and deflated at his next. "And that's why I can't. I can't be with you." Then the dam broke, and he let his thoughts spill out, trying to organize them into full sentences as he went. "Your dad did make me promise to leave you alone. He didn't want you to get hurt, and neither do I. I don't want to be selfish and have you get hurt because of it. I love you, more than the world, but people need me. I can't just stop being Spider-Man." Peter would have continued, had Gwen not opened her mouth to speak.

She clamped it shut, though, after a moment of thought. She shook her head. "I'm being hurt either way Peter." She knew she was being selfish, that she should just accept it and say that she forgives him, but she didn't want to. She felt like a child. "I need you Peter. I-I can't handle all this on my own. I lay in bed at night worrying about you, and I spend the day worrying about my mom. I need someone who understands, you're the only one who understands how I feel right now. I want to..." A sob broke apart her words, and she shut her lips tight once again, putting a hand over them.

Peter also had tears falling from his eyes as he spoke. "I- Gwen, I wish. I wish I could be there for you, I wish I could make it work. But I can't. I can't. Okay?" The both of them were silent for a moment. The only sound was the wall clock ticking and the faint sound of two nurses' discussion in the hallway. "I promise you that I'll be there when it really counts."

Gwen sniffed. All she wanted to do right then was throw her arms around his neck and cry into his shoulder, she wanted to kiss him on the lips and put her hand on his face. Instead, she pulled the blanket tighter around her and laid back down. "Goodnight Peter." She didn't say it icily, but sadly. She added under her breath, "I love you."

* * *

Several hours later, Peter woke to a nurse prodding him. Gwen was gone. Peter was discharged, with an order not to do anything to strenuous for a week or so. He knew he would be web-slinging again in a few day's time anyways.

As soon as Peter walked through the door of his house, he heard a crash in the kitchen and a male's voice cursing. He raced around the corner, and was faced with Aunt May sweeping up a broken plate. There was a man standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

"Sorry May, I'm such a klutz."

"Uncle Adam!" Peter's face lit up, though the majority of his face hurt because of it.

"Peter!" Aunt May dropped the dustpan holding the shattered plate, and the pieces went flying across the floor once more. "Are you okay? I was just about to come to the hospital when your uncle Adam showed up on our doorstep. I had totally forgotten he was coming..."

Peter smiled at Aunt May, his spirits lifted by seeing his Uncle Adam. He was Aunt May's youngest brother, and the liveliest. He was in his mid thirties, but he acted like a teenager. "I'm fine Aunt May. The doctor told me to take it easy. I'll live."

Aunt May gave him a dark look. "Don't you dare make light of this Peter."

Peter really wished he could remember what had happened. He shook it off and looked back to Uncle Adam. "Why are you here?" He asked with a childish smile.

"I was going to stay for Christmas, if that's quite alright with you?" Uncle Adam asked with a grin of his own.

Peter nodded eagerly, which caused him to become dizzy. He put a hand to the back of his head and sat down at the dinner table.

"Hey kid, you okay?" Uncle Adam asked with concern.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah I'm fine."

"What happened to your face? Are you getting into fights at school or something?" As fun as Uncle Adam was, he definitely had the same mother-hen gene as Aunt May.

"Um, I have some stuff that I really need to get done, for a job, and it's upstairs, so, I'll be back down in a little while." Peter stood and took the stairs much slower than he would have liked to.

He shut his door behind him and clicked the remote for the locking mechanism on his door. It would be hard having to hide Spider-Man from Uncle Adam, but he would have to.

Peter found that he was rather sluggish, and not very motivated to do anything. He sighed. "Okay, Peter. Get up, find your camera, no, your suit. The camera's in the suit." He continued to mumble to himself as he went into his bathroom, looking around for the suit. He figured he must have been well enough to put it away the night before, since it was nowhere in sight. Peter grabbed the key to his electrical outlet drawer and opened it. The suit wasn't there, either.

"Okay, Aunt May must have taken it again." He told himself that so he wouldn't freak out.

Peter pushed the door shut and sat at his desk. "if I were Aunt May, where would I put the suit?" several places came to mind, but the sound of the drier is really what caught Peter's attention. "Oh God, my camera."

It took everything Peter had to not jump up and run down the hall. Now that there was someone visiting, he had to act normal.

Peter snorted to himself. He hadn't been normal, even before the spider bite.

When he flung the laundry room door open he found his belt on the drier, and his suit in it. He pulled it out and shook his head. The fabric really shouldn't be machine dried.

"Hey!" Uncle Adam said from the doorway.

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin. He shoved the suit behind his back and looked up at his uncle like a deer in the headlights.

"I didn't know you were in to cosplay!" he finished.

Peter's jaw dropped, he blinked.

"Don't be embarrassed about it. I actually did that once. And the suit is really good, better than the footie pajamas the other kids make."

He clamped his mouth shut and simply nodded. "Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it kid."

Peter walked back to his room, and to his slight irritation, Uncle Adam followed him. He frantically shoved all his web cartridges in a draw of his desk, glancing around for any other Spider-Man things.

"So you're into Spider-Man?"

Peter nodded, standing in the center of the room awkwardly with the suit balled up in his fist.

Uncle Adam picked the belt up off the desk and pulled the camera out of it. Before Peter could react, he was flipping through pictures of Spider-Man. "Whoa, how did you get these shots? These are insane."

Peter shook his head and shrugged. "Roofs. Ah, dumb luck."

"You could make serious money off these."

"I was going to sell them to the Daily Bugle. The newspaper." Peter said, prying the camera out of his uncle's hands.

"You should. They're great."

Peter smiled at his uncle.

"Peter," Aunt May called up the stairs. "Adam! How about dinner?"

Both boys walked to the stairs and looked over the rail. "What about that place you took us last time May?"

"The Japanese place?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, the hibachi."

Aunt May smiled. "You feel up to it Peter?"

Peter nodded, making sure not to make himself dizzy this time. "I'll be down in just a minute."

Something told him he was going to have an interesting night as he put his suit on underneath his black shirt and jeans

_**Author's Note: yeah this is a weird chapter. I would re-write it but that would take way too long. I had my laptop taken for a stupid reason by my stupid father. You can thank FF's new copy and paste feature for this chapter :P**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Author's Note:**_ _So I was feeling a little discouraged from the lack of response from the last two chapters, so I re-read all of my reviews. I am one review away from fifty :') you guys, whether you're still reviewing or just reading at this point, rock out loud. I know this story is still getting insane amounts of views, so you guys are still there for sure :) Anyways, I'm sorry that this chapter isn't as well written as it could be. I'm sleepy as crap, but I managed to get the chapter written all I one night :P Read on my lovelies! Enjoy!_

* * *

Peter had always loved Japanese restaurants, the food was great, everyone was always so nice, and he had a faint memory of going to one with his parents as a kid.  
When the three arrived at the the restaurant Uncle Adam insisted they sat around a grill, even though it scared his sister. With a smile, he teased his sister about her fear of sharp objects.

"It's not the knives I'm scared of Adam, more so their being thrown around." Was her indignant reply.

Shortly after they ordered the chef came out and turned on the grill. He played around with the knife and metal spatula for a little while, then pulled out his various cooking oils, seasonings and a carton of eggs with a bowl of pre-cooked rice. He spun the eggs around on the grill, threw one up with the spatula and caught it in his hat, and tried to do a sort of juggling with two spatulas. An egg went flying, and Peter, on instinct, lurched forward and grabbed it before it hit the table in front of Uncle Adam.

Uncle Adam blinked, eyebrows raised. Peter sucked his bottom lip in his mouth, then spit it back out. He tossed the egg back to the chef, and he caught it in his hat. Aunt May laughed. Whether it was at Peter's quick reaction, or the chef with his egg-catching hat, none of them knew.

The man continued to make their food in the zaniest ways possible, and then he pulled out shrimp.

Peter kept himself from groaning. Every time he came to one of these places, the chef mercilessly bounced shrimp off his face. They laughed and encouraged you, but they couldn't be stopped, those Japanese shrimp-throwing fiends.

He chopped the shrimp into pieces and pointed his spatula at Uncle Adam. "You like shrimp?" Uncle Adam hardly had time to nod before the man continued. "You catch some shrimp!" he flipped a piece of shrimp at Uncle Adam's face and it hit him on the nose, bouncing into his lap. Peter and Aunt May laughed as it happened again and again.

_Better him than me!_ Peter thought.

"No-" Uncle Adam was cut off by shrimp flying into his mouth as he spoke. He coughed for a minute, then gulped, then laughed. "No more shrimp." He said through his laughs.

The chef turned to Peter and tossed a shrimp totally without warning. He opened his mouth and leaned to the left slightly, catching it.

"Pff, dumb luck." Uncle Adam teased.

The chef took that as a challenge and continued to throw them at Peter without stopping.

Peter caught each one of them without having to even think about it. It took him about six shrimp pieces to remember that he had increased agility and a sixth spider-sense now. Well, if it was good for anything, it was shrimp catching. Peter caught them until his mouth was so full he had to stop and swallow. He continued deflecting them back to the grill with his hand, so they wouldn't have to be picked up off the floor.

"You are good at catching the shrimp!" the chef said with a grin.

Peter laughed and nodded.

The chef continued his cooking. The next trick he had up his sleeve was to chop an onion and stack the rings to look like a little volcano. He put a few drops of oil in the onion and lit it. The little flame flared higher than it should have. The chef, bent over his little volcano, had his hat set on fire. He yelped and knocked it off his head with the hand holding the oil bottle.

Oil spilt on the floor and the fire, spreading it to the wood of the table and across the carpet. Aunt May picked up her glass of water and dumped it over the fire creeping across the carpet, which only made it flare up again. Water on an oil-fed fire would only make the fire worse.  
Peter put his arm around his aunt's waist and yanked her away from the fire.

The fire grew all too quickly, devouring wood furnishings in the restaurant. People jumped from their chairs and fled the building with no semblance of order.  
Having been in the rear of the place, Peter, Uncle Adam and Aunt May were having a hard time getting out.  
Peter gripped Aunt May's arm and looked into her eyes. He pulled the sleeve of his jacket up and she saw the suit peeking out. She blinked away tears, but nodded her understanding.

Peter dove behind the sushi counter and ripped his clothing off. He frantically dug through his backpack for his mask and gloves, and put them on hurriedly as he found them. He put his clothes in his backpack, pulled his backpack on and jumped up.

He webbed himself onto the ceiling and located Aunt May and Uncle Adam in the crowd trying to shove themselves out the door. He made sure he stuck tight to the ceiling and webbed Aunt May. Uncle Adam, at seeing her begin to fly away, grabbed her ankle. Peter nearly lost his grip on the ceiling as the weight on his one arm doubled. He hadn't been holding the web tightly enough.

By God, if I can hold a minivan while dangling over a river, I can get my family to safety.

He pulled Aunt May and Uncle Adam up. It was awkward to hold up both of them, but he managed it. He shot a short amount of webbing and stuck it to his suit. Peter ordered Uncle Adam to hold on tight and tucked his aunt under his arm.

All three of them were having a hard time breathing because of the smoke. Peter remembered that during a fire, you were supposed to stay as low as you could so you wouldn't breathe in too much smoke. Too late for that.

The real problem was that he didn't know exactly how they would get down now that they were up. The door wasn't tall enough for him to web through, especially not with Uncle Adam dangling behind him. Peter spotted the window beside the door and sighed. That seemed like the only way out. He had no doubt he could swing through the window even while closed, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself if either his aunt or uncle were hurt. On top of that, people were beginning to point and shout at him.

Aunt May coughed horribly and Peter decided that he needed to go if he was going. He couldn't be perfect. He webbed the ceiling above the targeted window and swung down. He heard his uncle Adam shout.

He broke through the window feet first with a brilliant shattering sound around him. The shards of glass reflected the moonlight outside and turned silver before falling to the ground.

Peter realized nearly too late that he was going to crash into the asphalt. Or, more specifically, the traffic on it. At the last possible second, he shot out a web and it stuck to a street lamp. He jerked upward and they swung above the traffic. Uncle Adam was still shouting. Peter cut a corner into an alley and set down Aunt May. She was rattled, but unscathed otherwise.

"Peter, you've got to go help those other people." Aunt May said shakily.

Uncle Adam, who was trying to detach his hands from the sticky webbing, shouted, "Peter?! What in hell? May, that's the real Spider-Man!"

He glanced behind him, at the burning Japanese restaurant. There were no longer people trying to shove themselves out the door, and fire trucks had arrived. Peter shook his head, ignoring Uncle Adam. "On any other night I would. But I have to get my priorities straight. We're going home."

"Peter there could be people in trouble back there! I- I demand you go save them! Or so help me, I will ground you!"

"Aunt May," Peter said gently. "There are professionals to do this. I'm making sure you and Uncle Adam make it home safely."

Uncle Adam's jaw dropped. "Peter? You are Spider-Man? Oh my God. That's freaking cooler than- than- the X-Men! My nephew is a super hero!"

Behind his mask, Peter grinned. He pulled his backpack off his back and pulled his clothes out of it. He put his mask and gloves in the bag, while he left the suit on under his clothes. Uncle Adam watched in astonishment, trying to believe what he was seeing. Aunt May watched in astonishment, trying to believe that Peter had just openly defied her.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait. You just stick to walls?" Uncle Adam asked in amazement.

The entire taxicab ride back to the house, Uncle Adam had been nearly bursting at the seams to ask questions. As soon as they had entered the house, he demanded Peter sat down and tell him everything.

So Peter did, he told the story right from the beginning, the day he found his dad's briefcase in the basement. Aunt May had never heard more than what he had managed to get out the night he limped home with a bullet in his leg, so she listened just as intently as her brother.

They all ate frozen dinners since they never got more than fried rice at the hibachi restaurant before it was set on fire. Uncle Adam asked rapid fire questions, barely getting an answer before another question shot out of his mouth.

"Yeah. My DNA was infused with that Spider's." For further proof and at his Uncle's prodding, Peter jumped up onto the wall.

"Peter!" Aunt May cried. "You're getting footprints on the ceiling!" Peter and Uncle Adam laughed, but Aunt May didn't seem to find it as funny. Once both Peter's feet were on the ground, she spoke again. "That does give me an idea, though, if you'll be willing to take your shoes off. But that's for another day! It's late and we've all had quite a night. We're all going to bed. That means you too Peter, no web-slinging." Aunt May ushered them toward the stairs.

Uncle Adam had one last question. "Peter... does that mean you don't cosplay?"

* * *

_**Dawn! If you're reading this, please PM me! I don't know why you aren't contacting me, maybe you're just REALLY absorbed in your game... but really, I want to talk to you.**_


	9. Chapter 9

"A smidge to the right."

Peter pulled the tinsel rope to the right, which as Aunt May saw it, up. Since it was already up on the wall as it was getting, he stuck it to the ceiling.

"Not your right Peter," Aunt May said. "My right." When Peter responded with a blink, she laughed and elaborated. "For you that's forward."

With a smile and a shake of his head, Peter inched forward on the wall and stuck the tinsel where his aunt told him. "How does that look?"

Aunt May squinted up at the ceiling, where Peter sat back against the wall, tape in his hand and tinsel rope slung over his shoulder. "That should do it. Thank you Peter."

Peter gave her a nod and slid down the wall, landing on the floor without a sound.

Uncle Adam came out of the living room where he had been putting ornaments on the Christmas tree. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the tree. "Do you guys have a stepladder somewhere?" He held the golden star shaped tree topper in his hand.

Both aunt and nephew were silent. That was Uncle Ben's job, to put the topper on the tree. Peter cast his gaze to the carpet and Aunt May put a hand over her mouth. Peter tried to put his hands in his pockets, before he remembered his pajama pants didn't have pockets.

Uncle Adam must have picked up on it quickly, because he put the star on the table and gathered his big sister in his arms.

Peter made his way up the stairs and into his room. He stood in his doorway for a minute, then sat down at the desk.

He knew Uncle Ben's passing would be harder around Christmas, but he hadn't expected it to hit them like this. It was as if a shadow fell over the house. Even the snow falling outside Peter's window didn't seem as bright; the lights on the tree outside seemed dim.

He blinked hard as tears blurred his vision as they spilled over his eyelids and down his face. He put his hand over his mouth, then dropped it in his lap and gave up.

Tears fell freely. When he realized his was ruining the pictures on his desk, Peter leaned back and let out a sob into his hands.  
"I could have stopped it, I could have saved him."

A knock on his door caused Peter to jump. He rubbed his face dry with his sleeve and unlocked the door.

"Your Aunt is worried about you." Uncle Adam seemed very subdued. He was almost never anything less than excited. And that morning, he had been a special sort of excited. Every time he had looked at his nephew, there had been a sort of pride in his smile.

Peter shook his head. "Nah, I'm, I'm fine." he grabbed a stack of photographs and began organizing them in his red and blue portfolio. "I have to go into town, taking the photos to the Bugle and all."

Uncle Adam crossed his arms and leaned into the doorframe. "Are you sure that can't wait?"

"There are a thousand other photographers in this city that can't wait to get their grubby hands on the reward for blurry pictures of _me_. I need to get these to the newspaper before they settle on one of those."

He nodded. "What will you do with the money?"

"I'll use some of it for Christmas. The rest goes to Aunt May."

Another short nod. "Peter, there's a reason I'm here. I knew it was going to be rough for you and May this season. So if you want to talk, just remember that's why I'm here."

He lingered in the doorway another moment, watching Peter pretend he had something to do, then turned and went back down the stairs.

Peter let out a defeated sigh and dropped the photos back onto the desk. They were the blurred ones he was sure the newspaper wasn't interested in.

"Peter, if there's one thing you've learned in the past few months, it's that dwelling on what can't be changed is distracting and utterly pointless," he muttered to himself.

Peter stood and dropped his portfolio into the backpack that hung off his desk chair. He grabbed a pair of jeans, a red long sleeved shirt, and a blue flannel shirt out of his dresser. After a moment's consideration, he pulled his Spidey suit on before putting the rest of his clothes on.

He put his mask and gloves in his bag, but put his web-shooters on for ease of use.

"Peter!" Aunt May's voice drifted up the stairs and through Peter's slightly ajar door.

He slid down the banister and walked into the living room, where Aunt May stood beside the Christmas tree with the star topper clutched against her chest. He hesitated on the threshold of the room.

"Dear, I would like you to put the topper on the tree," she said with a sad smile.

He nodded and put his bag on the couch beside Uncle Adam. Taking the star very carefully, he stood as tall as he could and stretched his arm to reach the top of the tree. Once he finished, Aunt May plugged in the lights. He put an arm around his aunt's shoulders and they stepped back to look at the tree.

Their's had always been unique, covered in ornaments collected over many, many years. They had a little tradition where each year, each member of the little family chose one special new ornament to add to the collection, then Aunt May shopped the clearance of packaged bulbs in Walmart. In over ten years of collecting, they'd managed to get quite a Christmas tree.

When the sight made them laugh any other year, this year, Peter held his broken hearted aunt as she cried.

This was going to be a merry Christmas indeed.

**_Author's Note: _**_I'm a horrible, horrible person. FORGIVE ME! TT^TT I hope you guys are still there... and not ready to kill me... please forgive me. Excuse time! I have been really sick the past month. Not even kidding, one sickness after the next. I could hardly catch a break and when I did, I was frantically trying to catch up with school. Besides, my brain was total mush until this week. And this week, my best friend and our book was my priority. (Love you Dawn!)_

_So, I am sorry._

_As a side note, anyone going to the Baltimore Comic-Con this weekend?! If so, I'm the girl with the weird redish purplish hair, ridiculous brown cape, and knee high converse. (Yes. I'm going to dress like that... Don't judge me.)_

_Gosh... it's one in the morning and I'm rambling. Please forgive the short chapter. I lack rest. I will make it up with an extra long and exciting chapter next time, though! It'll be my tenth chapter and the longest I've ever continued a fanfiction. :D And with that, goodnight._


	10. Chapter 10

Peter jumped as the door hit the wall and a shout came from within. His first instinct was to look around for a place to hide and change, but his Spidey-sense didn't go off.

_Spidey-sense. What am I, five? He shook his head and redirected his gaze back to the game on his phone._

"I don't want to ever see your sorry face again! Those photographs are so bad, I wouldn't even use them to-"

Peter snorted, then tried to disguise it as a cough. A man in a nearby cubicle gave him a grin.

He sat outside of the office of Jameson. The editor-in-chief and owner of The Daily Bugle. He also happened to be the grumpiest man in New York, which is certainly a feat. Peter's left hand was splayed across his blue and red portfolio almost protectively, while he played with his phone in his right hand.

"Did Miranda just leave you outside the door?"

Peter looked up at the man who'd addressed him. It was the man who'd grinned, but he now stood in front of Peter. _I should have known he was there_, He thought with a grump. _Dear God, these games are killing my Spidey-sense! Spidey-sense... geez Peter, grow up._

"She said he would eventually find me." And at the time, Peter had been rather okay with that. After the stressful morning he'd had, just sitting and thinking had sounded nice. Now his stomach twisted in a weird way, wondering if Mr. Jameson would throw his photos out the door, too. It had only been five minutes of waiting and he was ready to get it over with.

The man laughed and shook his head. "She's new. Ironically, the old receptionist was fired for entering Mr. Jameson's office unannounced. I'm Robbie, by the way."

"Uh, Peter. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Peter, what do you say I announce you to Mr. Jameson?"

Peter gave a nod and stood. "You make it sound like he's some king and we'll be beheaded if we disturb him."

"Well anyone else might lose their job, but I'm Old Man Jameson's favorite," he said with a wink.

Peter grinned. It wasn't often he met someone like Robbie, partially because the only time he ever went out was as Spider-Man. And Spider-Man didn't have many friends.

Robbie knocked on Jameson's door, then opened it without permission. "Mr. Jameson, this is Peter. He's-"

"Here about the Spider-Man photographs." Peter interrupted, making eye contact with Mr. Jameson. He found himself looking at an over middle aged man, with salt and pepper hair in a neat buzzcut, with a mustache to match. The man wore a slightly blue colored business suit and yellow tie that certainly didn't belong in this century. Though, being one of the richest men in New York, Peter supposed he could dress however he pleased..

"I don't want pictures of Spider-Man unless he's dead in them," Jameson grumbled. Even his grumble was loud.

Peter sat down across from Mr. Jameson at his desk, and Robbie stood behind him. He placed his portfolio on the desk, facing Mr. Jameson, open to the first page of photographs.

"These are all fairly solid proof that Spidey is the good guy. That, and I was there, so I saw which side he played for." Peter said confidently.

"Eh, that wall-crawling insect is a phony."

"Actually, spiders are arachnids..."

"Mr. Jameson, you put an article on the front page, offering a big reward for photographs of Spider-Man. Reporters are supposed to be unbiased. You can't keep shoving your bad-guy opinion down people's throats."

"I'll save the city from this menace, Robbie! You just wait, he'll turn out to be a villain! I'll expose him before he can carry out-"

"Mr. Jameson, that's ridiculous. You seem to forget how he saved the city from Doctor Connors."

"After being shot, nonetheless," Peter tossed in timidly. He tugged on his sleeves to ensure nothing blue and red stuck out.

"Peter's got a point. After being hunted down by the NYPD, he still saved the city! You're being ungrateful."

The part of Peter that wasn't freaking out a little wanted to cheer for Robbie.

"If it will shut the both of you up, I'll buy the damned pictures!" Jameson shouted, pulling the portfolio towards him.

Just as Peter was so near selling his photographs, the door was swung open. The secretary, without a word, bustled to the other side of the room and switched on the small television.

"Hey, what do you think you're..." Mr. Jameson's shout faded as he watched the television.

_"The shuttle is headed way off course! The pilot, John Jameson, is unresponsive. NASA is scrambling to get a response."_

_"This just in, the shuttle is estimated to crash in New York! It'll crash right into the Brooklyn Bridge!"_

Peter jumped from his chair silently and ran out of the room. He hesitated in front of the elevator, then went to the stairs instead.

I hope I'm not putting too much faith in myself by thinking my running up seven flights of stairs will be faster than taking the elevator.

He headed up to the roof as quickly as he could, removing clothes and shoving them in his bag the entire time. By the time he burst out the door to the roof, he was all suited up. He took a moment to get his bearings, then shot away in the direction of the bridge.

Swinging through the city, he realized it had been a long time since he'd been out in the daytime. And the open. He'd been unintentionally gravitating toward rougher parts of town, and only sneaking out well after Aunt May had gone to sleep.

That was probably part of the reason people he swung above were making such a big deal of his being out.

Peter made it to the Brooklyn Bridge in record time. He sat atop the bridge and watched the sky, looking for the shuttle. His built in sunglasses made the task much easier. When he located the shuttle, his eyes widened underneath his mask. The situation hadn't fully hit him until just then. How am I supposed to stop a space shuttle?

Peter looked below him at the bridge. Even though they were supposed to be evacuating, people stayed on the bridge in their cars, as if they had all the time in the world.

"Hey," Peter shouted. "get off the bridge!" He continued to yell as loudly as he could, waving his arms around, until there was an amplified voice behind him.

"Evacuate the bridge immediately!"

At that, people began swarming from their cars and off the bridge in whatever direction they could.

Peter nearly snapped his neck turning his head so fast. He recognized that voice. "Hey, Iron Man! Glad you could make it!"

There was a metallic thud as the red and gold suit landed on the bridge beside him. Snow around the boots melted near instantly. The entire helmet folded itself up to reveal the face of Tony Stark. "So you're Spider-Man. Nice to meet you kid."

Peter stood from his crouched position and crossed his arms. "I'm not a kid. And, as far as I'm concerned, I've done a pretty good job of keeping the streets clean while you and the rest of your Avengers traipsed around Asia."

"They were having dragon issues."

"Yeah. I was having lizard issues."

"So I heard. Did you have fun getting your ameture ass whooped?" Tony smirked.

Peter ground his teeth and tried to answer as calmly as physically possible. "When you started out, you screwed up pretty badly too. Besides, half the crap you have to deal with is a mess of your own making!"

"You demolished half a school, destroyed the Oscorp building, and allowed Captain Stacy's death, all in one day!" Tony cocked his head to the side slightly. "Actually, maybe I should be thanking you for demolishing Oscorp."

"Allowed! You think I allowed that to happen?" Peter lifted his arm and Tony grabbed it at lightning speed. With a shake of his head, Peter pressed his middle and ring fingers to the pad on his hand.

Tony released his arm immediately. He spluttered and began rubbing at his eyes with his iron gloved hands, while Peter just took a step back and kept talking.

"God, you're as insufferable in real life as you seem on TV! But you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to let you help me save the day anyway, because that's what good superheroes do!"

Tony huffed, his face finally free of the sticky webbing. "Let-"

"Unless you aren't a superhero, and really have no interest in helping me save lives."

Tony's helmet reassembled itself around his face. "Fine! Jarvis, give me an estimate on how long we have until that shuttle crashes." There was a pause, then Tony turned to Peter. "We have two minutes. You better have a plan."

"Sure as hell do. Slow it down as much as you can." Peter took a head-first dive off the bridge, then swung himself up. He swung back and forth across the bridge, touching every post on the bridge and keeping his fingers on his web pad.

Tony watched for a moment, puzzled, then took to the air and grabbed a wing of the shuttle. It did nothing but slightly change the course of the shuttle and throw Tony upwards. "Okay, plan B! Jarvis, activate tractor beam!"

"Sir," the computer-generated voice responded, "the tractor beam hasn't been tested yet-"

"Now!"

"Very well, sir. Tractor beam powering up."

Tony pointed his open hands toward the shuttle as a translucent blue beam came from both hands and merged a few feet away. The tractor beam caught hold of the shuttle and suspended it in the air for half a moment. Then it began dragging Tony down with it.

Peter looked up and swore silently. "You're doing such a great job saving the city all by yourself. Maybe I should just leave you here to do the rest," he muttered. Peter secured the web he held to the bridge, then turned and ran across one of his webs. They hardly budged. Peter waved his arms back and forth to Tony, signaling that he could release the shuttle, then webbed out of the way.

The shuttle dropped into Peter's web and bounced a hundred feet up. It did that several times before settling on the now torn up asphalt of the bridge.

Tony landed on the bridge and nodded approvingly. "Maybe you aren't so... Hey, what are you doing?" Tony's helmet collapsed once more as he cast a questioning look toward Peter, who ran toward the shuttle.

"There are still people in there!"

Peter stuck to the side of the shuttle and crawled to the top. He didn't even have to touch the glass to know that it wouldn't break.

He crawled around to the door, but there was no handle on the outside. Tony blasted the door. Peter put his arm through the hole and pulled the door off with little effort. peter swung in and turned to Tony.

"Are you coming?"

Tony looked behind him at the reporters now gathering on the bridge and the police putting up yellow "do not cross" tape. His mask reassembled once again, and he followed Peter into the shuttle.

Peter already knelt in front of the two pilots, trying to figure out how to release the buckles. Tony turned a flashlight on and looked around for the cause of their unconsciousness.

"Oh, here." Tony shined the flashlight on John, whom Peter still worked on unbuckling.

Peter waved a hand at him. "I can see better without it."

"You aren't some rich kid with a brain, are you?"

Peter snorted. "I thought the all-knowing SHIELD would have already told you that. No, I'm not rich, but I do have a brain."

"SHIELD has had a hard time finding stuff on you. They've determined you're a kid, but that's not hard. What are you, really?"

Peter grinned under his mask. So, maybe he had a thing for throwing his secret around his family, but he was pretty good at covering his trail other places. "Genetically enhanced human. Infused with Spider DNA. An accident, really."

"The webs are natural?"

"I make them. Like, with science." _There's a weird sentence._ There was a click, and the unconscious John lurched forward. "Whoa!" Peter grabbed him and set him against the control panel.

"What all can you do then?"

Peter moved to working on the other pilot. Since he'd figured out how to do it, all it took was a click. "I stick to stuff. I swing around the city. Demolish buildings, apparently. Spider stuff."

"You make it sound boring. All I have is super-richness," Tony laughed.

"Hey, that's one superpower I don't have."

With both pilots freed, Spider-Man and Iron Man walked out of the shuttle into the sea of reporters and police waiting for them. They deposited the pilots at an ambulance and Peter webbed to the top of the bridge. Tony, however, smiled for the cameras and talked to the reporters. He gave Peter a salute, and Peter waved back before swinging away.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Author's Notes: **Is it metro in New York? I live in DC, so I'm not sure. XD Anyways, thanks for being patient again guys, and sorry about how short the chapters have been. Over on my DeviantART, I'll be running a contest via #SpiderManStories. A Halloween fanfiction contest! :D Please please please check it out, guys! (My username is Lartovio on DA) Continue, and enjoy!_

"Earlier today Spider-Man, whose identity is still unknown by the public, and Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, worked together to save hundreds of lives and the majority of the Brooklyn Bridge. Among the hundreds saved was John Jameson, only son of Daily Bugle editor and owner J. Jonah Jameson..."

Peter crept through the front door and into the kitchen stealthily. Uncle Adam sat in the living room watching Television, and Aunt May was nowhere to be seen. The coast was clear. He swung the fridge open and grabbed the first tub of leftovers he set eyes on, as well as a soda. He shoved them into his backpack, and made for the stairs.

He'd been out all day and well into the night after his escapade with Tony Stark. It was nine o'clock, pitch black outside, and below freezing. Thankfully Peter made it home before the snow had begun falling.

Before coming home, he'd changed back into his street clothes and went back to The Daily Bugle. When he found Jameson was not in, presumably at the hospital with his comatose son, he asked for Robbie instead. His pictures were returned to him, as well as a large wad of cash.

"Since we're supposed to release an article about Spider-Man tomorrow morning, we'll need a picture or two. I hope you don't mind I made copies of them all," he'd said. Peter thanked him over and over before finally catching the metro home.

Peter made it halfway up the stairs before his foot betrayed him. He tripped on his untied shoelace, and hit the stairs head-on. One of the plastic tupperware bowls burst open against Peter and the stairs. Spaghetti on the brown carpet as well as his red shirt. Lovely.  
"Peter," Uncle Adam called sharply. "Get in here."  
Peter pulled himself off the stairs. His soda can rolled off its current stair and downward. When it hit the tile, it cracked open on the top and bottom and began spraying everywhere.  
A frustrated "Ugh" was all Peter could manage.

Uncle Adam stood. "Where have you been? You missed dinner."

Peter was silent. The only sound in the room was the hissing of the soda can as the fluid was squirted all over the base of the stairs.

Uncle Adam gestured to the now muted television.

Peter shrugged.

"Do you just keep all this to yourself? Does poor May ever hear about any of it?"

"Um..." Peter scratched his neck awkwardly. "I mean, yeah, if she sees it on the news."

"And aren't you supposed to be recovering from a concussion still?"

"Aw, come on Uncle Adam, that was like, a week ago! And I heal twice as fast as I used to."

"Don't give me that crap!" Uncle Adam stood. "Peter, never doubt that me and your Aunt May are the biggest Spidey fans that will ever live, but we want you to be safe. You're still a minor, and you need to listen to your elders. May didn't want you to go out as Spider-Man today! She was expecting you to go drop off some photos, and come back with a wad of cash. Instead you went and-"

"I can't ignore people when they need help! I have to do this. It's my job, protecting people."

Neither man noticed Aunt May come halfway down the stairs and listen to the conversation.

"That is not your job Peter! You're a kid, that isn't your responsibility. As a seventeen year old, you're supposed to eat junk food, do homework, play video games and watch TV!"

"I'm not a normal teenager! I can do great things, I can help people! My dad used to say that with great power comes great responsibility and I'm not going to waste my time sitting on the couch!"

"You need to listen, Peter!"

"No! No, you listen! You aren't Uncle Ben! You aren't my dad! I know what I'm doing! I will not try to be normal, because I never was. This isn't about me, anyways. This is about saving innocent lives from stupid people that don't care about them! The-the Avengers just do their thing with aliens and Norse gods and crap, and I'll take care of the little guys. The petty thugs that don't matter until they kill someone. I'm going to clean this city from the outside in. I'll teach people what the price of hurting an innocent is!"

"Peter!"

Peter whirled around to face Aunt May, who had tears in her eyes. "My God. Where do you even get these ideas, why don't you ever talk to me about it?"

Peter let his head hand. "I'm sorry... Aunt May... sorry. Uncle Ben." He forced a shaky breath and pressed his eyes shut. "Uncle Ben's death... was my fault. I could have stopped the guy, the guy that killed him, and I didn't. I never found him either, dammit. I became Spider-Man after Uncle Ben died. _Because_ Uncle Ben Died. I looked for that guy everywhere, and never found him. I failed Uncle Ben, in so many ways."

Aunt May held a hand over her mouth, tears running down her cheeks. She hooked a finger underneath Peter's chin, and look him in the eye. "Oh, Peter." She lurched forward and pulled him into a hug. "That wasn't your fault. How could it have been? Uncle Ben wouldn't have wanted that man to die, anyway. Another death on top of his, wouldn't have made it any better."

Peter put his arms around his Aunt and hugged her tightly.  
"Peter, who's that?"  
Aunt May had a hand lifted and pointing out the window. Across the street, in a bright red and expensive car, was Tony Stark. With a pair of binoculars. Pointed at their living room window.

"Oh my God. What is he doing?" Peter ran to the front door and opened it slowly. Tony was getting out of his car, and proceeded to walk across the street as inconspicuously as possible.

Instead of a giant suit of armor, he wore a t-shirt and jeans this time. He skipped up the steps, and stopped right in front of Peter.

"Thank God you finally noticed me. It was getting too dark to see much through the binoculars. May I come in, Peter?"

Peter blinked, then gulped, then nodded.

Tony came in and walked directly into the living room. He picked up various things and placed them back seconds later. Finally, he turned to Aunt May.

"You must be May Parker. Very nice to meet you ma'am. Would you happen to have issues with spiders? Maybe very large, humanoid type spiders?"

"Mr. Stark, it's an honor." Aunt May threw a glance at Peter. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Tony smirked. "You're all very good at playing it cool, really, but I know your secret."

"Upstairs," Peter said gruffly.

Once in Peter's room, the door was shut and locked. "Okay, how did you figure it out? Why? If SHIELD had a hard time figuring out who I was, and you did it so easily, why am I only getting this visit now? Why didn't you help sooner?"

"Ooh, I feel like I'm being interrogated." Tony plopped down in Peter's desk chair and spun around once before poking around the desk. "Okay, one. I ran a recording of your voice through the SHIELD database. Out of the thirty nine possible matches, I narrowed it down to you. Right height and brain capacity and all. Two, because I could and wanted to. Three, SHIELD is stupid. Four, I'm not helping them, I'm helping you by hiding it from them. Four, is that blood, or spaghetti sauce on your shirt?"

Peter gave Tony a pathetic glare. "Let me get this straight. You're helping me by keeping SHIELD off my case."

"Yes. No. Both. Buddy'o mine, Bruce Banner, Hulk, he's had some issues with people wanting to do not fun stuff to recreate what's happened to him. Cap'n too. If SHIELD finds out who you are, they release your name to the public, then you're screwed."

"Thanks, then." Peter yanked his shirt off and opened his dresser to grab another.

"Damn, kid. That overgrown reptile got you bad," Tony commented, referring to the long scars across his chest.

Peter shrugged. "We all have our fair share of scars. As a hero, nothing comes without a price."

Tony tapped the arc reactor in his chest. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

Stained shirt replaced with a cleaner one, Peter unlocked the door. "Thanks. Y'know, for helping me with the space shuttle and all."

"Don't mention it. Really, don't." Tony spun around in the chair once more before hopping up. "But the next time the world is about to end, you had better swing by and help out. Or I will track you down." He threw a card on the desk, and followed Peter out of the room.

Tony stopped by the living room before heading for the door. "Thank you, Mrs. Parker, for your hospitality. You'll not be seeing much more of me, which I know is a disappointment for you. Have a great Christmas. Or Hanukkah. Whichever." He gave a nod to Uncle Adam, then waltzed right out the front door without so much as a backward glance.

Later on, when Peter sat down to check his email before going to bed, he found the card on his desk. _"If you ever need anything, please hesitate to ask me, then ask yourself if you really NEED whatever it is. If the answer is yes, proceed to send me an email asap." _

Peter put the card in a drawer. After a moment, he took it back out, typed the email address into the bar, and began typing a message.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **blaaahh blah blaaaahhh, it's two in the morning and I should be asleep because I got to get up early for school tomorrow~~~_

_Yeah. Fifth (sixth?) time I've written Tony now, and I think I actually nailed him in this chapter. Sorry if it's all a little choppy, I'm tired. I SHOULD HAVE BEEN SLEEPING THREE HOURS AGO. Have you heard the new 1D song? If you have, please know that going crazy until you can see the sun is not a good idea unless you started like, fifteen minutes before sunrise. And even then, for a teenager, that's hell. G'night, guys._


	12. Chapter 12

Peter rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wake himself up a little more.

3:44, the clock read. Uncle Adam and Aunt May had gone to bed long ago, and as far as they knew, so had he. He was in his bed, technically, just playing on his laptop instead of sleeping.

Suddenly, his brain was screaming at him and his body tingled.

_THIS IS YOUR_ _SPIDEY-SENSE! HEY DUNDERHEAD, SOMETHING IS WRONG_! it said.

He scrambled to mute his laptop just in time for a pop up message to show itself, alerting him of an email. Apparently a noise worthy of his Spidey-sense would have come with it.

Peter's eyes lit up when he saw the sender of the email. "I have one message from Tony Stark," he said to himself smoothly. He felt like the coolest kid on earth.

Science had always been an interest to him, as had technology. Oscorp was home to some of the most brilliant minds the world had to offer, and Peter admired them all, especially Norman Osborne himself, but to converse with Tony Stark... It was his wildest dream come true. It trumped Norman Osborne any day of the week.

The email was short and straightforward, much like Tony Stark himself. _Got_ _him. Ready when you are._

His stomach did a weird little flip, then he did an actual flip off the bed and onto the floor. Grabbing his mask to put on with his already donned costume, he shot out the window like a bullet. Perching in the tree outside his window for a moment, he put on his mask.

He webbed away through the neighborhood, caught a ride on top of a subway train, and webbed the remaining distance to his and Tony's meeting place.

Snow didn't prevent any of his spider powers from working, but with the thin suit, it was like kryptonite to touch. He landed on the ledge of an old warehouse, where Tony Stark, or Iron Man, already paced on.

Tony's superheated metal boots melted holes in the snow as he walked back and forth. He caught sight of Peter and told Jarvis to direct any other business calls to voicemail.

"Took you long enough! How do you get anywhere with those webby guns?"

"Offense taken! They're _web shooters _and I made them myself."

Tony shrugged his iron shoulders dismissively. "That explains a lot for me. Get off the ledge, you're going to give me a heart attack."

Peter leapt onto the roof of the little building sheltering the stairs. "I, uh, just wanna thank you for doing this for me... It means a lot."

"Don't over do it. Stick to sarcasm, it suits you. He's down there, doesn't have a clue we're here. Y'know, this guy was a real pain in my ass to track. What did he do to get on your bad side?"

Peter gulped, looking down at his feet. "He's the man that killed my uncle."

"Right. Yeah, you know that cold blooded revenge isn't healthy, right?"

"I know. This isn't revenge, it's justice."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Just remember that it's still illegal to kill him." Tony gave a nod in the direction of the little door leading into the warehouse. "I'm only here for backup, kid. He's all yours." Tony said it almost regretfully. He silently launched himself away to stand on a nearby building.

Peter gave the door an apprehensive look, then silently opened it and crept up onto the wall.

The place was completely pitch black, but Peter didn't have a problem seeing anything. His vision was just as good in the dark, and his Spidey-sense acted like radar, telling him where everything within a hundred feet was.

For a moment, his vision went out, his entire body tingled with energy, and there was an intense buzzing in his ears.

Time slowed down as he saw a bullet headed straight for his face. He jumped off the wall and landed in a somersault on the ground. The bullet embedded itself in yellowed drywall.

Peter quickly stuck himself on a wall, his heart thudding in his ears.

_This is the guy. This is the guy._

It was all that was going through his head. He crawled along the ceiling and dropped down on a web behind him.

Behind the eyepieces in his mask, his eyes were intense with a mixture of hate and fear.

_He took Uncle Ben. He made Aunt May miserable. He ruined it all._

He grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him up to the ceiling. The gun clattered to the ground.

Peter swung across the warehouse and landed on the walkway going around the top.

Still holding the man by the back of his collar, he shoved him through a window and dangled him over the edge.

_He destroyed my life, Aunt May's life, he ripped my family apart. He deserves nothing short of death. Nothing short of the same suffering he put Uncle Ben through._

There was a spark in Peter at that moment. Uncle Ben's death created Spider-Man. It made Peter the man he was that day.

"I will never forgive you for what you've done to me. But I could never forgive myself if I stooped to your level."

Peter released his collar, letting him free fall two hundred feet to the ground.

Right before he hit the sidewalk, Peter shot a web and stuck it to the window frame. "Just hope the cops find you before this web disintegrates."

Peter left the building the way he came. Tony was already flying away.

He pulled his camera out of his belt and snapped a few shots.

"Thanks Tony. Merry Christmas."

Peter stayed out several more hours. It had been a while since he pulled an all-nighter, and he had to admit it felt good.

He was untouchable that night, finally fully recovered from his concussion. He didn't get dizzy even when he did four consecutive flips off of a eighty story building.

_Better stop by Bruce and say hello. Maybe it will stimulate my memory_.

"Hiya Brucy. How's it going?"

Bruce looked the same as ever, the scowl deeply etched in his stone face.

"Yeah, I get the feeling. You remember where I was headed last we talked? No? Cat got your tongue?"

Peter wracked his brain, trying to remember anything about that night.

"I think I was going home. Clothes! I was getting my clothes."

He patted the gargoyle between its pointed ears.

"Thanks Bruce, you're a real pal."

Peter swung down off the building and waved goodbye to Bruce as he did so.

He followed his gut to an alley in the rougher parts of town. The clothes were wadded up in a corner behind a trashcan with graffiti all over it.

"Ah, I was looking for that twenty," he mumbled as a crumpled bill came out of the pocket of the jeans.

_This doesn't help my memory loss issue at all. I still can't remember how I got my butt whooped. I guess the only other thing to do is web over the general area._

Peter made a little web sack to put his clothes in. He hated doing that, because it was distracting in a fight, and easy to lose. Since he was looking for nothing more than evidence of a previous fight, though, he figured it would work.

He covered probably fifty blocks before he gave up. Just webbing around the area allowed him to remember that he was trying to help a woman who had her purse stolen.

_Oh, don't tell me some common purse snatcher put me in the hospital. It had better be some hoard of purse snatching ninjas if I'm to walk away from this with any semblance of pride_.

With a sigh of disappointment, Peter headed back home. The next day was Christmas Eve, and he had some shopping to do still.

**_Author's Notes_**

_Hey guys! Isn't THIS way overdue?! I really have no words. How long has it been? Five or six months? I'm reaaaaally sorry guys. I hope you all are still interested in reading. _

_Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but crap ia freaking going DOWN in the next one! Mystery bad guy shows himself and the actual plot line I've had in mind finally shows itself._

_Any of you guys seen those Doctor Who shoes? That picture with the little kid's chubby fist? I painted those. actually by now I've painted eighty of them. So that is really what kept me away from this story. But if I were to make, say... Spider-Man and Venom shoes, would any of you awesome nerds be interested in buying a pair?_

_anyways, done advertising. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	13. Chapter 13

"Oh Lord, Peter, did you buy the entire store?" Aunt May asked with a gasp.

Peter beamed at his Aunt and Uncle as he walked by with many plastic bags full of tidings of comfort and joy. "I have no more money," he announced.

Uncle Adam scoffed. "I can imagine so."

"How many people did you buy presents for?" Aunt May called after him.

"You and Uncle Adam," he called back. It wasn't a lie, he just didn't include the rest of the truth.

With his door securely shut from prying eyes, Peter let his treasures tumble to the floor. One by one, he dumped the bags onto his bed and sorted the presents. There were three piles; one with stuff for Aunt May, one for stuff for Uncle Adam, and one pile for Gwen's present.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, which stood on end more than normally that particular day. Christmas shopping on the eve of the holiday, especially when you had no more than four hours of sleep the night before, is not recommendable.

Neither is buying presents for your girlfriend who you promised to stay away from.

_Come on, she's not my girlfriend. I can't even think of her as a friend. I just... Admire her from a distance. Geez, that doesn't make me sound like a creeper at all._

Taking a deep breath, he began assembling his some-assembly required gifts.

The next hour was spent on wrapping, and then it was off to Gwen's house. For as much as he loved her, he wasn't going to be getting out in the snowstorm they were supposed to be getting the next day. Snow was like kryptonite to him, it was his arch nemesis and the end-all of evils. No matter how pretty it could be.

Walking out the door as Peter Parker for the second time in a row in one day made him feel weird. He had been sneaking around in red and blue far too often. He could feel Aunt May giving him an odd (but approving) look as he left.

He took the subway downtown and the fire escape up to Gwen's window. Placing the neatly wrapped present on the windowsill, he gave her empty room a once-over. It had been quite a while since he had looked inside, and it honestly was a mess. It wasn't like Gwen to be that disorganized. Some of it looked like she was making a mess on purpose...

_As if to spite someone._ He cringed. Just seeing the state of her room told him she needed a hug. There was no other conclusion. He could only imagine what her and her family could be going through. Uncle Ben wasn't the only person to have been tragically taken so recently. Peter felt a pang of guilt. It was _his_ fault, his fault that both of them had died, his fault that neither one of them would be there for their families Christmas morning.

Peter was torn away from the door only by frantic screams in the street below, thirty stories down.

"I smell a SPIDER," a familiar voice bellowed.

Taking a risk beyond his comfort zone, Peter leapt from the fire escape and onto the roof of a building across the street. He only hoped nobody saw him or recognized him.

"Come out and play!"

He peered down into the street, and saw people running from a man swinging a street lamp around.

Like a punch in the face, memories hit Peter and sent him reeling.

_Narrowly avoided the swing of his fist...a whimper of pain...head hit the building...pointed teeth._

In broad daylight, overcast as it was, the man looked even more unnatural. His skin was definitely a sickly shade of blue, and it made his blonde hair look more white.

_What the hell does this guy want with me? How does he know I'm here?_

Peter tried to steady his heart beat, then looked down at Gwen's window. It only made his pulse go insane.

"Gwen!" He groaned. "Oh my God... Gwen. This is what he was talking about. Stupid!" He pressed his hands to the side of his head and tried to think. "Gotta get away. Don't have Spidey suit. Can't be seen."

His cellphone began buzzing, and he picked it up. The only person who ever called him was his Aunt.

"Peter there's a man on the television-"

"I know I'm on the gray brick building." He shot a glance at the street, then added, "behind the guy."

"What does he want?"

"No idea. He put me in the hospital before. That's the guy."

"Peter, can't you just kick his ass?" he heard Uncle Adam ask in the background.

"I don't have Spidey with me!" he hissed.

"Well I'm bringing him to you then."

"Adam, don't be unreasonable, I won't let you down there!"

There was no response from Uncle Adam, so Peter assumed he had already gone to look for the suit.

"Please help him find it Aunt May."

"But this man..."

"I know. I know. I-I don't really want to fight him any more than you want me to, but he's going to hurt other people if he doesn't get me."

Peter's breathing was shallow, and his mind was racing. _What could I have possibly done to this guy to make him so mad at me?_

"Alright Peter. But be careful. I love you," she ended rather forcefully.

"I love you too Aunt May."

He quickly hung up the phone and looked down at the man again. He had cleared the street, and was now swinging his street lamp into Gwen's building.

_He can't possibly know. He might have just followed my scent. This is a result of a stupid mistake._

There were no cops yet, but Peter gave them a maximum of three minutes before they showed their ever-so-helpful faces. And Uncle Adam couldn't take any less than ten or twenty minutes to get to him.

That meant he had three minutes before he had to make a decision that could expose his identity.

This guy would _crush_ the police with a finger.

Frantically, Peter dug through his backpack for anything Spidey. Even if he had to wear a mask and street clothes, it would be better than nothing.

"Web shooters."

Experimental ones at that. It was Peter's pet project, making a web shooter that would be more controllable, and shoot twice as far. He'd tested them a little bit, but not enough to use them in a fight. He wasn't sure he even remembered how to put this variant on.

The sound of sirens caused him to move faster, untwisting straps and securing the web shooters to his hands.

"Drop the lamp and put your hands on your head!"

Peter watched as the odd man turned from his senseless beating on the building, and gave the police an animalistic grin.

He threw the misshapen lamp post at them, taking down three men.

"I'm here for the Spider-Man!" he shouted in his barely-there rasp of a voice.

Peter flipped his hood up, stood on the ledge of the building, and shouted, "hey ugly! I'm here!" He free-fell until he was inches from the ground, then shot a web out at a building to his right, pulling himself away.

He landed at the base of another building two blocks down, hiding his face as best as he could.

Like the rest of the man, the little amount of time it took him to catch up was inhuman.

"Lookit that, I caught the little bug unawares."

"How's your nose," Peter asked, tilting his head to the side, "it only looks a little uglier than it did the last time we met."

That seemed to anger him, so Peter stashed "vain (somehow)" in this man's filing cabinet in the witty insult section of his mind.

He came at Peter, but he nimbly flipped over him, and sat on the hood of a car while the man tried to pull his fist out of the wall.

_That would have made my skull into a Spidey-shaped pancake._

"So what's the name, buttface?" Peter asked as the car he previously sat on was demolished by a chunk of concrete wall.

"I call myself Tombstone, but you can call me _whatever_ you want, since it's the last name you'll ever call!" Tombstone charged again, forcing Peter off of his parking meter perch.

"Whoa! That's a pretty hardcore name. Are you sure your face will be able to live up to it?"

The man didn't charge, only grinned.

_What the-_

"SPIDER-MAN!"

Peter nearly gave himself whiplash as he turned, only to see Uncle Adam standing in the middle of the road, waving a bag around in the air. And Tombstone headed right for him. He webbed the building across the street, shooting high and swinging low. He grabbed his dimwitted uncle and made for the roof.

"That was really stupid!"

"Not as stupid as what you're doing! Who is that guy?"

"I have no clue, but-" his Spidey-Sense shouted at him so loudly that he winced. The thing was helpful, but just distracting. "You need to get out of here, I got this!" Peter walked to the door leading into the building, pulled it off the hinges, and pushed Uncle Adam through it. "Go!"

Uncle Adam taken care of, all Peter had to do was find a place to put on his suit.

Tombstone came up over the edge of he building.

_Did he just freakin' climb that?!_

Peter ducked, forewarned by his Spidey-Sense, and a chunk of concrete missed him by an inch. Before Tombstone could chuck anything else at him, he shot away through the city with the bag on his shoulder.

_Somewhere to change, somewhere to change..._ Peter spotted a construction site, then a row of port-a-potties. _Oh God. No. No. Not... Oh I don't have a choice._

Peter dropped down behind one and sneaked into it.

"This is _disgusting_," he groaned.

"Knock-kno-ock," Tombstone rasped.

Peter hurried to pull his suit on, just hoping Tombstone wasn't going to knock it over. He did not want to die in a port-a-potty, or even smelling like one.

Tugging the mask over his face, he felt something click into place. He instantly felt more confident that he could do this.

He waited, every muscle in his body ready to spring, for Tombstone to come to his port-a-potty. Right at the peak of his Spidey-Sense's alarms, he shot though the thin vent in the top as it fell, all it's disgusting contents leaking out. He landed behind Tombstone, who was ripping the door off the green plastic toilet.

"Hey-o! Looking for me?"

Tombstone whirled to find Spider-Man behind him.

"Hey Tomby -mind if I call ya Tomby?- you know what happens when you mess with a bull, right?" Peter slid underneath Tombstone as he ran to grab him in a death grip. "Well when you mess with a spider," he pressed down on his web-shooters and didn't release, "you get webbed!"

He planted a solid kick to the side of Tombstone's ugly face, then another punch to the gut through a thick layer of webbing. Peter placed his foot on his chest, and looked down at him. "So, what is it that you wanted from me?"

_**Author's Notes**_

_Ahahaha, oh, I love Uncle Adam. He's got to be the best OC I've ever had. I feel like this chapter is majorly lacking, but I just do not want to re-write it._

_So, I need you guys to review and tell me what Gwen's present should be! It has to be special, and mentioned, for what I have in mind for the next few chapters. I think I have a sort of idea for what it should be, but it kind of lacks a romantic element. You guys got anything?_

_You should all leave me reviews because I love hearing from you guys and all your opinions~ 3 I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	14. Chapter 14

_**PREVIOUSLY, ON AFTERMATH:**_

_"So what's the name, buttface?"_

_"I call myself Tombstone, but you can call me whatever you want, since it's the last name you'll ever call!"_

_He planted a solid kick to the side of Tombstone's ugly face, then another punch to the gut through a thick layer of webbing._

_Peter placed his foot on his chest, and looked down at him. "So, what is it that you wanted from me?"_

* * *

"Revenge," Tombstone roared, breaking free of the webbing and grabbing Peter's ankle.

Peter managed another half-hearted webbing to the pale blue face before he was swung into a metal beam. His head, still tender from the last beating this man had given him, hit the dirty snow. The impact wasn't bad, but it still made him dizzy. As a consequence, he could not possibly have gotten up, and Tombstone's hold on his leg was allowed to continue.

On his feet again, with snow and shreds of webbing hanging from his clothes, and his skin the unnatural color it was, Tombstone looked like some ghost straight out of a storybook.

Peter shut his eyes as he felt a tug on his leg again. Moments later, he landed on a pile of PVC pipes, which proceeded to roll off in all directions.

At that moment, the snow began falling.

_Great. Blindy-slippery cold stuff. It's just what I need, really. _He shuddered as he pulled himself to his feet painfully slow. Tombstone rushed him as a streak of pale blue and white.

_Plan. Think of a plan. This guy will outlast me, and with this stinking cold, that won't take long. I need a plan._

He put out his fist just before Tombstone hit him, and he fell onto his back. Every knuckle on his hand cracked under the force, and he wasn't sure whether or not a few fingers weren't in the wrong place.

He didn't have too much time to worry about it, so his flung his hand around a few times and webbed to the metal skeleton of a structure on the site.

_I can't keep him down. He must have been running ten miles an hour and took my fist to the face and he's getting up already!_ Peter flung around his stinging hand again. _Can't leave him. He'll hurt bystanders and tear things apart senselessly. Think, Peter. C'mon. The cold isn't effecting him, I can't seem to hurt him, my webbing doesn't hold him..._ He jumped onto the roof of a crane as Tombstone came for him once again. It was easier to replace a crane than the half of a block the structure would crush if it fell, not to mention how many of the people watching the fight would be killed.

Peter met him on the ground, blocking the fist coming toward his stomach and bringing the heel of his hand up into Tombstone's chin. His head was flung back, and there was a large _crack_, but he just rolled his shoulders and grinned at Peter before throwing another punch.

The only thing on Peter's side was the fact that he was very uncoordinated, and angry. The man moved fast and hit hard, but he obviously had no formal training.

He took several steps back, until he hit a concrete wall, then continued walking up it backwards. Tombstone was left to jump and reach in vain as Peter simply stood there, arms crossed.

"Can't we just talk this out like normal men? Be civil?"

Tombstone only growled.

"No Tomby, with words!"

He began beating at the concrete with nothing but his fists, and made a decent sized hole.

_No cuts, no bleeding... What is this guy?_

"Okay! Looks to me like you could use a little anger management," Peter muttered. "Why do you want revenge? What's you're real name?"

Tombstone didn't stop beating the wall even as he forced out these words, "I won't tell you until I have your neck in my hands! I'm gonna tell you right before I snap your neck!"

Peter took several steps back on the wall, partially from surprise. He asked himself again what he could have done to this man to make him so bent on revenge. "Can't this wait?" The wall began to crumble as Tomstone's hole created thin cracks through the whole thing, and his Spidey-Sense told him to get out of there. "It's Christmas Eve! Don't you have a family to see?" Tombstone halted his beating on the wall, and Peter knew he had the man's full attention. "I have a family! They expect me to show up for Christmas dinner alive. Not to mention, friends, people that need my protection." Peter took a step down, crouching near Tombstone's level. "Can we make a truce? Until the day after Christmas, then you can try to snap my neck all you want. Just today and tomorrow."

Tombstone stared right into his eyes, despite the tinted lenses on Peter's mask. He gave that sharp-toothed grin of his, and put his fist in the concrete. Peter's breath caught in his throat. His Spidey-Sense was screaming, and it took all of his willpower not to comply.

"I hope your family won't miss you too much."

Peter tried to jump, but at the same time Tombstone pulled his fist out of the wall, he drove his other fist into Peter's ribcage.

Before he was knocked unconscious, the last thing he was aware of was one scream among all the other spectators. A scream that stood out, because he knew to whom it belonged. Before he could pin down a name and a face, he was completely buried.

* * *

"Boys, cut it out," Gwen snapped. Her little brothers immediately stopped their bickering, just as their sister had asked. A few months ago, they would have disregarded her and continued their argument somewhere else, but recently, things had been different. Gwen was the acting second parent in the house, with her father gone.

Gwen walked back into the kitchen, where she had been standing over three of her mother's old cookbooks. The books were worn and most of the pages were crinkled and covered in age-old food, a sign of much use. Like any other year, all of her mother's side of the family would be coming around for Christmas dinner in less than twenty-four hours. Unlike any other year, though, Gwen's mother wasn't functioning like she normally would around a holiday. She was easily worn out, with the lack of sleep she was suffering from, and she didn't have her father to help with cooking and the boys. It was all down to her, all weighing on her shoulders, and Gwen was waiting for her to buckle.

With all that in mind, Gwen sought out the cook books she knew her mother frequently used on the holidays to help plan the meal. With much gentle prodding, she had gotten her mother to sit down with her and make a list of things they would need to cook the extensive dinner, and she was currently at the store retrieving such items.

"Gwen!" Howard, the oldest of her brothers, shouted. "Spider-Man at two o'clock!"  
She rushed to the window and looked across the street just in time to see the red and blue suit go off in another direction.

Howard was the only brother who knew what had really gone down that night with the lizard. At thirteen years old, her mother and her had decided he could handle the truth of what happened while Phillip and Simon remained ignorant. Having already been a fan of Spider-Man despite his father's previous opinions, his admiration for Peter and his alter-ego had only doubled with the information.

"Baddie in the street," he said, jabbing a finger at the cold glass of the window.  
Gwen made a face at what little of the "baddie", as her brother called him, looked like. His skin almost looked blue from the thirtieth floor up. "Ever seen him before?"  
"Nope. Is he... blue?"  
Gwen squinted. "Yeah, yeah I think so." She read the channel off the news van in the street, which was speeding away to follow Spider-Man, and ran to the television to turn it on. It had gone to commercial.

Wavering on indecision for a moment, Gwen closed her eyes. "Howard, watch Phillip and Simon. Take my phone, go to Phillip's room, and do not leave it unless the carpet spontaneously bursts into flame, got it?"

Howard took the cellphone and nodded. "Don't get hurt." He knew he couldn't stop his sister from following him, and he honestly didn't want to, but the least she could do was promise she would return safely.

She hugged him briefly before running to her room to get her boots and coat.  
Gwen halted in her doorway, a bright red ribbon on her windowsill having stopped her. She blinked slowly a few times, then cautiously made her way to the window. Frost caused it to be a pain to open, but open it she did. With shaking fingers, she turned over the label taped to the box underneath the bow.

_To Gwen, from Peter. Do NOT open until Christmas. Please._

She knew that handwriting. It was unmistakably Peter Parker, from the overdone cross on the little t, to the deep slant that came from always rushing.

Pulling the window shut with a bang, she set the present aside. Her curiosity to what was going on with him at that moment was just about going to kill her.

The trail of news reporters was easy to follow, and led her right to where a fight was apparently going down. Shoving her way through the crowd of spectators, she strained to hear anything other than reporters talking. Peter's mangled voice was the only thing she could hear, until she fought her way to the front.

He stood on a wall, looking down at the man (who was very definitely pastel blue) who was beating on the wall. He said something that caused the man to stop, and only then could Gwen hear him.

"I have a family! They expect me to show up for Christmas dinner alive. Not to mention, friends, people that need my protection." Peter took a step down, crouching on the wall. "Can we make a truce? Until the day after Christmas, then you can try to snap my neck all you want. Just today and tomorrow."

There was a horrifying moment, where all they did was state at each other. Even from the distance she watched from, she could see Peter trembling all over. Then, the blue man pulled put his fist in the wall, and withdrew. Peter, Spider-Man, was crushed underneath the nine foot tall, four foot thick concrete wall.

"No!" Gwen shrieked. She threw herself forward to begin digging him out before the dust had even settled, but the people surrounding her clung to her. As the blue man ran away, she spewed a profanity at him that her father certainly would have washed her mouth out for saying.

Unable to pull away from the people around her, Gwen flopped to the ground on her knees, sobbing. She was sure other bystanders thought her some crazy fangirl of his, when in all reality, he was one of the only two men she had ever loved.

The crowd began clearing out after a few moments, and she was finally free to pull at the mound of rubble in a vain attempt to get him out.

Her actions seemed to spark something in other people, because slowly, others came to help dig the hero out. Alone, her endeavor might have been hopeless, but with almost ten other people, the pile of rubble didn't seem so big.

Fingers were numb with cold and red with blood, but they kept digging until they found a hand. The fire department arrived, and the digging continued, but with Gwen and her valiant helpers standing to the side.

Gwen anxiously bit her fingernails as they dug carefully. And when they pulled his broken body out gently, she almost couldn't bear to look. His suit was torn and shreds hung off his body, and in a few placed, hair matted with blood stuck out on his head.

"Peter..." she whimpered.

They laid him out on a gurney, then rolled him into an ambulance.

"Wait," she cried, rushing toward the ambulance before the doors were shut. "You can't- his identity!"

One man restrained her, within sight of Peter, while they pulled his mask up to his nose and put an oxygen mask over his face.

"It's okay," the guy behind her said gently. "We won't expose his identity. Do you know him?"

"Yes."

"You can come to the hospital with us if you like. I'll explain on the way."

Gwen nodded as the doors to the ambulance shut. _Peter Parker... Don't you die._

They climbed into the front of the ambulance and he flipped on the sirens, before he began speeding through New York traffic.

* * *

_**Author's Note's**_

This chapter physically pained me to write in places. I'm sorry. And YES! The plot will continue to develop rapidly after this chapter, even though it doesn't look like it will.

and, this is the last chance to give me your ideas for Gwen's gift! Leave me your reviews, because I love them. :)


	15. Chapter 15

It took May a moment to believe what she saw on the screen, which was a pile of concrete. As the television cut to a commercial, she slowly stood and made her way out of the living room, collecting a coat and scarf before stomping out the door determinedly.

It took Adam a few more moments of spluttering to himself, collecting his shoes and coat, and running to catch up with his big sister. By that time, she was already another five houses down.

With a look of sorrowful determination set on her face, May kept her eyes on the slippery sidewalk as she pushed onward. Her Peter, her poor Peter, had gone and done a selfless thing again, and gotten hurt for it. Being a good person sadly did not grant good things on you, the fact had been proved through him too many times, and he was once again paying for caring.

May felt like a terrible person, but she hated those people relying on him, she resented the fact that he let them. While he was out throwing himself into harm's way for ungrateful strangers, she was left at home watching the news and biting her fingernails. She felt horribly selfish, but she knew it was part of her mother-hen gut reaction and tried not to think too much of it.

"May, where are you going?" Adam finally asked, thoroughly perplexed by the route she took.

"The subway," she answered shortly. "Peter will be in the hospital by the time we're there."

Adam began to say something, and faltered. May knew what he was going to say, and her face only set harder with it.

She wouldn't believe that a little concrete had killed him; she _couldn't._ He was better than that, he deserved more. Peter was a hero, whether the general populace agreed with her or not, and he deserved to live. Out of that horrible man and her nephew, Peter was the one who deserved to walk away with his life.

No, she definitely would not give in to the idea.

"May, your cellphone," Adam pointed out, handing her the buzzing device.

"Adam, now is not a good time."

At the threat of tears in her voice, he decided not to push her anymore, and answered it himself. He fell a few steps behind so she would either tune him out or not be able to hear him as well. "Hello."

"Mrs. Parker?" A girl's trembling voice asked.

Adam's heart almost stopped beating, and he stopped walking. His first assumption was that the hospital was calling to tell them that Peter...

"Mrs. Parker, I'm with Peter."

Adam snapped back, picking up the pace with May and trying not to panic. "This is her brother, Adam."

The girl on the other side didn't speak, it seemed like she didn't even breathe.

"Do you need to talk to May?"

"Yes please," she responded quietly.

He held out the phone to his sister once more. "There's a girl, says she's with Peter."

May gasped a little, seemingly of relief, and took the phone. "Gwen, dear, is that you?"

"Yes! Mrs. Parker, I'm with Peter. In an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Before you ask, it's a long story, but these people won't release his identity."

"Is he okay? Did they get that man?"

"No, I mean, no they didn't get the man. Peter should be okay. God, Mrs. Parker, I'm sorry."

May hadn't stopped moving the whole time she talked, but she slowed to a stop on a corner just then. "Peter will be all right," she said firmly. She had to keep herself believing that, lest she break down into tears.

* * *

"Mrs. Parker, they're taking him into the hospital now. This is a borrowed phone so don't call it, are you coming to the hospital?" Gwen didn't hear the reply over the commotion of wheeling Spider-Man into a hospital. People were more than a little surprised. "I'm going to keep you posted, okay?"

She gave the phone back to the driver and ran into the hospital after Peter. Unsurprisingly, she was stopped in the waiting room and told to stay put.

A moment later, a nurse pulled her into a small room and began asking her questions. She didn't have answers to most of them, but gave her his aunt's number. The nurse shooed her into the waiting room again, but Gwen caught hold of her arm before she walked away.

"Is he okay?"

"Miss-"

Gwen shook her head, refusing to let go. "No, no, you tell me if he's gonna be okay."

The nurse gave her a sigh, pulling her arm away. "The doctors are very capable."

Gwen watched her walk away for a moment, then moped back to the chair she had previously occupied.

_"The doctors are very capable"_. If that's the best thing she had to say in regard to Peter's condition, then she didn't want to hear the worst.

_Peter... Peter, please be okay._

Refusing to let her worry eat at her, Gwen stood and walked over to the pay phone in the corner. Thankfully, in her haste, she hadn't forgotten her wallet. She dug it out of her jacket and plopped a few coins into the machine.

Her mother was probably chomping at the bits to hear from her, and she was almost certain that she would be punished for her thoughtless actions. Not that she really regretted them.

"Gwendolyn Stacy! I was so worried," her mother sighed into the phone.

"Sorry mom. But..." She rested her head against the plastic wall to the side of the phone. "Peter's not okay," she finished quietly.

"It's... I forgive you. You made sure your brothers would be safe. Even if... I don't know if I quite approve of what you're doing... I understand. You make sure he pulls through. And please be safe."

"Thanks mom, I'll be back before," she checked her watch, which read four o'clock, "mom, I don't know." She bit her lip and barely held back tears. "I don't know if he's going to be okay."

"There's no telling. Just do what you think is _right_, Gwen. I love you."

"I love you too. Bye mom."

She sullenly hung the pay phone up and leaned against the wall. She felt completely _drained_ in every way. Emotionally from missing her father, and worrying for her mother and Peter. Physically from running two blocks to where the fight had gone down, and always doing her mom's job of cooking and cleaning.

She swallowed a sob as she caught sight of Mrs. Parker. Her face was set hard but there were traces of tears on her face.

Gwen gave a little wave and pushed off the wall, walking to the opposite side of the waiting room.

"Hi."

Mrs. Parker gave her a grim smile. "Where's Peter?"

She have a helpless shrug. "I don't know." Her voice was thin. "The nurse I talked to either didn't know anything, or wouldn't tell." Her gaze strayed to the tall man standing behind Peter's Aunt.

"Oh, I'm Adam," he stuck his hand out "May's brother. You're...?"

She took his hand and shook it. "Gwen Stacy." She wondered what title she should give herself in relation to Peter. Did she have one? "Just a friend," she decided.

He gave her a nod. "Thank you for... For being there for him, May's explained the situation to me," Adam responded.

What was that supposed to mean? He knew she knew and knew himself? Spider-Man was a secret shrouded in a puzzle to Gwen.

"Of course." Gwen pursed her lips, looking at the ground. "I have to go home," she said, nodding. "My mom needs me. Um, if you could... Just let me know what happens to him. Please." Her voice cracked, and she put a hand over her mouth. She still refused to make eye contact.

It almost killed her to just leave, but she knew she shouldn't stay. Her father hadn't wanted her around him, and Peter himself had made it clear that he didn't either. And she _knew_, deep in her heart, that as much as it hurt to stay away from Peter, the consequences of not doing so could be more physically painful for her and maybe even her family.

"Dear," Mrs. Parker said gently, "you're welcome to stay if you want."

"No." She shook her head. "I really can't. Bye."

The two bid her a goodbye, and she rushed out of the hospital. The walk back to her apartment was cold, but at least there weren't very many people due to the massive amounts of snow being dumped on the city.

By the time she got home, it was only five, but it was pitch black outside. When she walked into her apartment, all the lights were off. She found her phone on the counter, playing music to catch her attention. Underneath it was a note written by her mother.

_"Gone out to dinner, Gwen. Let me know when you get home, if you beat us_ _to it!"_

Gwen sent her mother a quick text, then went to her room to flop onto the bed. She considered writing in her diary, but she felt too miserable to do anything but lay in the dark.

She awoke some time later, startled by a noise outside her room.

She put a hand on her face. _Hadn't meant to fall asleep. Mom must be home. _Using all the willpower she had, she pushed herself off the bed and went into the living room, where she found her three brothers and one very exhausted mother.

Her mother gave her a hug, which she gladly returned. "Why did you come home so soon?" She held her daughter by arms length and gave her a very serious look. "Is he...?"

"No... I don't know. Mrs. Parker hasn't called me." She looked out the window at the snow covering the streets in white. It suddenly hit her like a brick to the head that it was Christmas Eve. She had things to do... the house needed to be cleaned for guests arriving in the morning, she needed to wrap the last of her gifts... "I miss him," Gwen suddenly breathed out. Every syllable trembled with the amount of emotion it carried. "I don't want him to die. I want him to stop pretending like it's better for both of us to be apart and be okay. I miss dad. I..." she dissolved into sobs in her mother's arms like a little girl.

She held her daughter and pulled her fingers through her silky blonde hair, crying softly as well. "We all miss him, Gwen. But he wouldn't want us to be sad."  
She let out a breathy laugh. "He would scold us."  
"He would. He'd tell us... that it's been a long time coming. He'd say that he's happy to die for such a cause. He's just as much a hero as Peter, you know."

"I know. I miss them both."

* * *

_**Author's Notes!**_

_Guys! I've broken a hundred reviews! YOU ARE THE BEST FANDOM EVER! Thanks to every single one of you that's reviewed, this means so much to me! After I post a chapter I check my email nonstop for three days, and it makes my day every time I get a review!_

_Okay, gushing over, I must apologize. You didn't have to wait too long for this chapter, but I've had it sitting around finished for like... three or four days. I've just been too lazy to clean it up and post it. Gosh, I'm mean to you guys **and** the characters..._


	16. Chapter 16

_**To all my loverly reviewers: I love you! **_

_**To Greter: You scoundrelly scoundrel you, you've convinced me it's a good idea to bring Tony back. HE WAS ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE IN ONE CHAPTER GUYS! ONE. CHAPTER. But alas, I want more Tony, and you want more Tony, so it shall be done! In the next chapter.**_

* * *

The worst thing to wake up to is the sensation of falling. The only thing that can make it worse is when every part of your body that jolts you awake is broken or bruised. So, when Peter awoke to that very situation, the first thing he did was release an involuntary moan.

His entire body just ached and throbbed. He found his left arm in a very uncomfortable cast from his wrist up to near his shoulder. Not being a doctor, he couldn't be sure, but he would say it wasn't normal for a cast to be so big. His other three appendages seemed to be mostly in order, but his head hurt so badly it felt as though it burned.

He opened his eyes to find himself in a hospital room... for the second time that month. This time, though, he remembered how he ended up there, and his Aunt was holding his hand.

"Gwen," was the next thing to come out of his mouth.

"She's safe, Peter," his aunt replied automatically.

His mind was foggy, but he knew her robotic answer meant he had said the name more than once in his concrete induced sleep.

"Aunt May."

She startled and looked up, meeting his tired gaze. "Peter!"

He gave her a pathetic grin.

Uncle Adam came into view from the other side of the bed, with almost as much concern in his features as his sister.

"How are you feeling?" Aunt May asked gently.

"Like death," Peter replied. He jolted a little and gave his Aunt a serious look. "Aunt May. I'm sorry– I'm so, so sorry."

"No Peter," she said sternly, tapping him on the hand. "You did a good thing."

"No, no, no, no..." He pulled his hand out from under his aunt's and placed in on top of hers. "My _mask_," he finally hissed out.

She stood and pushed him back onto the pillows. "Peter it's fine, there's a special group of people helping you out, and they promised they won't let your identity out."

Peter made a confused face, his mouth hanging slightly open. "SHEILD?"

"No, not SHEILD. They said they work for Mr. Stark."

"They said that they were helping masked heroes before Iron Man, but when they helped him and he found out what they were, he decided to fund them," Uncle Adam added.

Peter relaxed instantly, but was too distracted to acknowledge his uncle with more than a nod, which hurt his neck. _I'm such a moron. I tried to be the good guy and give him a chance and almost got killed on Christmas Eve because of it._ He gasped, looking around for a window. It looked like early morning.

"Crap," he groaned. "Guys, I am so sorry."

Aunt May gave him a scalding hot glare, one that she saved only for special occasions. "I've told you Peter, whatever it is, I forgive you. We aren't mad. You've done the bravest thing I could imagine."

"I still didn't get the guy," he pointed out.

"No, but the police are looking for him," Uncle Adam countered.

"And they can handle themselves. They took care of the city all by themselves before you came along, after all." Aunt May once again pushed him back gently. "You're a hero, but even you need to take a break," she said with a sad smile.

"Yeah..." Peter sluggishly agreed.

Having resolved most of their issues, Uncle Adam decided they should bring the doctor in. He didn't do much but check his vitals, but he deemed Peter better than he had been and officially out of the woods.

"He's making a miraculous recovery. It shouldn't be too long until you're up and moving around again. Merry Christmas," he said with a half-smile. "You get the gift of life." The doctor obviously didn't enjoy having to work on the holiday, but his words were genuine.  
Peter wanted to ask just how close he'd come to dying, but he couldn't quite get the words out. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. It was certainly a good reminder, though, something that Gwen and Aunt May were constantly trying to tell him; that he isn't invincible. He still is just human, and he's just as breakable as any other person.

After the doctor was gone, a silence settled over the room, where the only sound were the various monitors Peter was plugged in to.

"Aunt May... how long will I be here?" The question was his inadvertent way of asking just how badly he was injured. Every part of his body ached, so he couldn't be sure.

She sighed shakily before answering. "A few days."  
Uncle Adam met his eyes. "Almost all of your ribs are broken or fractured somehow, your concussion was worsened and there are several other cuts on your head now, thankfully only skin was broken. Your left arm is broken in three places from shielding your head, and several nerves were fairly crushed. You could have been paralyzed. You're also covered in stitches."

Aunt May put a hand over her eyes and rested her elbows on the bed.

Peter wasn't shocked, stunned or surprised at all, even. "I'm sorry..." he rasped.

Uncle Adam shook his head, wrapping an arm around his sister's shoulder. "It isn't your fault. I just hope they catch that son of..." he passed a glance to Aunt May, "a gun."

_More like son of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. What is he?_

"You owe someone a call," Aunt May said firmly, holding his cell phone out to him. The screen was cracked all over, from being just as buried as him.

Gwen. Gwen had been there. He'd heard her scream, but he hadn't seen her. Why?

He took the phone and called her. As it rang, Uncle Adam and Aunt May left the room.

"Mrs. Parker?" There was a lot of noise in the background.

"Um..."

"Peter," she gasped. Gwen took a moment to regain herself after the initial surprise of hearing his voice, then took a deep breath and burst out, "What were you thinking! Your poor aunt and uncle are spending Christmas in the _hospital _because of you! I understand, I understand Spider-Man means a lot to you and other people, but your first and foremost responsibility should be to your family. That was the most irresponsible thing I've ever seen anybody do."

Peter listened to her tirade patiently, and didn't even attempt to explain himself. "I'm sorry."

"_I'm sorry_?! No, sorry does not cut it Peter Parker! Who is that man anyway? The police can't find him. He just disappeared."

"I- I don't know. He's insane, says he wants revenge."  
She was silent for a moment, and the only sound was that of her family on the other end. "Be careful. Next time... You're just on your own now. I can't worry about you anymore."

Peter nodded, wiping a tear off his face. "I'm sorry Gwen."

"Don't," she breathed. Then, she was gone.

The phone dropped to his lap and he closed his eyes. His Aunt peeked inside a moment later, since she hadn't heard him talking. "You can come in Aunt May."

"She dug you out of the rubble, you know," she told him as she eased into her chair. "Without her you might not have lived."

He couldn't think of a suitable response for that, and both his aunt and his uncle seemed alright with that. Uncle Adam spread across the couch and settled down for a short winter's nap, and Aunt May moved to the edge of the bed. She smoothed his crazier-than-normal hair back, and continued fingering it for a few minutes, spiking it in places and ruffling it in others. He felt like a child, but he didn't mind it.

When Peter fell asleep, he dreamed of Gwen and Tombstone off and on, Uncle Ben and other people like Flash occasionally drifted through.

_ "Revenge," Tombstone roared. Revenge for what, though? What did I do to him?_

* * *

Gwen sat down hard in her computer chair, clicking the mouse repeatedly until the monitor flashed to life. Maybe Peter was on his own now, she couldn't help him any more, but she could certainly quell her own curiosity.

_Who is Tombstone?_

Tombstone, typed into the Google search bar, brought up no results but pictures of actual tombstones and a few stills from the news videos broadcasted the previous day. She took one of those stills, the clearest picture she could find of his face, and ran it through the search engine. The visually similar images were mostly just _more stills_, which was more than a little aggravating.

One image, however, stood out.

She clicked _open link in new tab_, and found herself on a facebook profile. The picture was of a middle-aged man, African-American, wearing a white labcoat with the Oscorp logo on the pocket. L. Lincoln Tombs, worked in the biochemical laboratories two levels below the one Gwen had worked, when she interned for Doctor Connors. She'd never seen this Mr. Tombs before, but it seemed that this could quite possibly be the man who took Peter down so easily.

His nose was upturned slightly, though not as grotesquely as it became after whatever lab accident he must have been in, and he had light hair, cropped close to his head.

"Gwen, Mom wants you," Simon called from outside her locked door.

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute."

He hesitated still, finally asking, "Is Peter okay?"

Gwen turned her eyes toward the door, debating whether or not she should let her brother in, and decided against it. "He'll live. Go help Mom if you can."

She turned to the screen again, and scrolled down the page. The very first post was all she needed to see. It was old, from when things just began happening at Oscorp.

_"This is Martha Tombs. Last night when Doctor Curtis Connors, or The Lizard, and Spider-Man tore apart the the Oscorp building, Lincoln was killed. The police won't tell me particulars."_

"Oh my God, this guy is a zombie," Gwen murmured, deeply disturbed.

She Googled L. Lincoln Tombs, and came up with an article about the morgue his body had been kept in.

_"The morgue was practically overturned, but despite the mess, the only thing that was missing was the body of a Mister L. Lincoln Tombs, which has not turned up."_

"Oh. Oooooh," Gwen sighed, banging her head lightly against her desk. She was going to have to give Peter all this information. She couldn't leave him in the dark.

There was a banging on her door again, and that time it was Mrs. Stacy herself, come to collect her daughter. "Gwen, I understand you're worried about Peter but I need your help. Come on."

Gwen trudged out the door and into the kitchen. Seeing the chaos, she decided Peter could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

**_Author's Notes: _**_Yeah... I know that Google (sadly) does not work like that, but I couldn't think of any other way of getting this done. Bear with me and suspend reality just a little more. XP But, anyway, YAY FOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT!_

_ Sorry it took me so long to get this done, I got seriously stuck! What really helped me get through my little block there was my new fic, Peter and Gwen, A to Z. It's a collection of one shots set in different places through Peter and Gwen's relationship. Pwease go read and review? Pwetty pwease?_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Author's Notes**: just so you all know, this takes place the day after Christmas_.

* * *

Striding down the hallway, he ignored people who stopped to stare. The young female receptionist gaped openly as he leaned against the half wall in front of her desk.

"Looking for Parker, Peter."

As a delayed reaction, she nodded and typed the name into the computer. "Uh, r-room 345, fifteenth floor."

He flashed her a winning smile, and he could swear she nearly fainted.

Tony Stark pressed the elevator button, and leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, waiting for his lift to arrive.

There was a tug on his pants that startled him, and he looked down to find a child of no more than six looking up at him. "Are you going to see your friend Spider-Man?" he asked in a whisper, as if it was a secret.

The boy's mother stood by, looking on the scene with an apologetic smile.

Tony knelt down in front of him, looking at him over his two hundred dollar sunglasses. He put a finger over his lips, then put his mouth near the boy's ear. "Yes I am."

He grinned madly and bounced up and down slightly. "Can you give him this?"

Tony took the picture the boy held out to him, and slipped it inside his inner coat pocket. "I sure can." He winked to the mother, then stepped on to the elevator.

Arriving at room 345, he rapped on the door and entered without further warning.

He found Peter much more living than he'd expected, which was a good thing. Still, he didn't look good. There were probably twenty stitches visible just on his right arm and above his collarbone, not to mention the other minor cuts and huge bruises as well as giant cast. There was almost no unharmed area on the kid.

He sat alone, holding his phone close to his face and squinting.

"Knock knock."

Peter looked up. "Tony, what are you doing here?"

Tony shut the door and smirked. "I'll take that as "hello Tony, thank you for gracing me with your presence, please come in"."

"Don't go putting words in my mouth," Peter said with an eye roll.

Tony pulled the slip of paper out of his pocket and laid it on the bed beside Peter. He smiled warmly when Peter's face lit up at seeing it. He caught a glimpse of the child's interpretation of Spider-Man and Doctor Connor's battle and the words "get better".

"Merry day after Christmas," Tony said, taking note of the new PSP Vita on the table beside the hospital bed.

"Same to you."

"How long until they let you out?"

"I dunno. Doc didn't say," he chewed on his lip for a moment. "Sorry, um, why are you here?"

Tony plopped down on the couch. "Excellent question! I wanted to let you know that SHIELD got a DNA sample off that pile of concrete. I wouldn't worry about it yet, it will probably magically disappear before they can match it to you," he dropped casually. "But anyways, who is this Tombstone fellow who so flawlessly crushed you under a ton of rock?"

Peter shrugged his right shoulder, the one not hindered by a heavy cast. "He told me he wants revenge."

"And you've never seen him?"

"No."

"Alright then, let's go down the list of things you could have inadvertently done to make him want you to die slowly. The high school, you could have injured or killed his kid."

"There were no casualties at the school," he said, shaking his head. "Not even serious injuries."

"Oookay, bridge?"

"Anything that happened there would have been your fault..." Peter said with a half grin.

"Hey, watch it. So not the bridge, not the school. The only other logical conclusion is Oscorp."

At that moment, Peter's phone began ringing. It seemed like the call was important, by his startled reaction, so Tony gave him a thumbs up as a signal to answer it.

"Gwen? N-no, you're okay."

Sometimes Peter's tenancy to stumble over his words was painful to smooth-talking Tony Stark. More so at that moment since he seemed to be talking to a girl.

"Oh my God. Are you serious?"

Tony was officially intrigued at that moment. He isn't a nosey person... Except for the fact that he really is... But he wanted to know what got him so worked up.

"Well it makes sense... Can we help him?"

Whoever this Gwen girl was, she began shouting so loudly that Tony could piece together parts of what she said.

_"I told you... No... On your own... Figure it out."_

Peter put down the phone a moment later. He'd been hung up on.

"Girl troubles? You know, I find that when a girl is mad at you, apologizing works wonders."

He gave the other man a dark look. "I told her that I can't be... I'm trying to protect her. She's mad at me for a reason."

Tony made a face. "You can't cut yourself off from everybody. My identity is public and you don't see my friends falling dead left and right." He shrugged. "But to each hero his own."

Peter was silent for a minute, thinking over what he said. "Gwen called to tell me that she found out who this guy is. L. Lincoln Tombs. He was a biochemist in Oscorp, in the building during the Lizard's initial attack, killed in the lab, disappeared from the morgue."

"He's a zombie," Tony cried. He was uncharacteristically excited by the news. "How are you going to kill him?"

Peter gave Tony the worst look, which sobered the man instantly.

"Right." He cleared his throat. "I will look in all the nooks and crannies of the city you would expect to find a zombie... And I will get back to you." He stood to leave, but a call from Peter stopped him. "Yes?"

"What you said, about, about not cutting yourself off? Is it really a good idea t-to have a girlfriend?"

Tony smirked and shut the door behind him as he left.

* * *

"I told you Peter! You're on your own now, no more help, you're on your own. You can figure it out." Gwen hung up the cellphone, throwing it into her armchair and falling into her bed.

Not helping Peter proved to be more painfully difficult than she anticipated.

She lay on her bed, knees to her chest in a ball, staring at nothing. Her focus shifted and fell upon a red bow.

The present from Peter. She still hadn't opened it.

Very slowly, she sat up and reached for the box. She knew that it would be better to leave it alone, maybe even give it back, but she didn't care what her conscious told her was better at that moment. The red ribbon fell off the box and the white wrapping paper came off in pieces. There was only a slight pause before the box opened too.

Gwen blindly stuck her hand in the box, and her fingers found a delicate silver chain. She pulled it out, and her entire body tensed when she found the end. Her stomach turned and a knot placed itself firmly in her throat.

Hanging from a long silvery chain was a small glass bottle with a tiny cork in it. Inside the bottle was something only Gwen had seen before. The preserved spider that bit Peter. The evil little arachnid who started it all.

She dropped it back into the box and reached for the note that was in there.

_"I'm really sorry Gwen. I promise, I'll be there when it really counts._

_–P"_

That was it. She cried.

To anybody else, it would be gross to have a spider in a bottle, but it was more than that to both Peter and Gwen. It was a symbol, and there was something about his giving it to her in such confidence that was... Gwen didn't know what it was. It was brave, bold, endearing, meaningful. None of those words seemed right.

Suddenly and without thought, Gwen plunged her hand into the box and pulled the necklace out, slipping it over her head and putting the charm underneath her shirt.

She didn't know what purpose he had for giving it to her, if it was anything other than showing he truly cared, but he was probably counting on her to wear it. Honestly, she was proud to wear it.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**: I want to thank Gwen-Parker-Of-Gallifrey1138 for helping me with Gwen's character! She actually prevented me from doing something really silly that would have messed up the entire plot._

_I know there isn't really much development in this chapter, and it's kinda short, but we're finally getting there! I'm pretty sure there shouldn't be more than five to ten more chapters :D_


	18. Chapter 18

Peter spent an excruciating month and a half under house arrest, enforced by Aunt May. Uncle Adam went home once he was certain the Parkers would be okay. The goodbyes were very emotional. Over the last month Uncle Adam had become more than just the crazy uncle that Peter loved. He certainly didn't replace Uncle Ben, and he still came second to his dad like everybody else, but Peter accepted the fact that Uncle Adam was attempting to make himself the new father-figure to him. He also accepted the fact that he needed one. Already, Spider-Man was not easy, and he needed somebody to guide him through the tough decisions he would have to make. Uncle Adam could be silly and even more strong willed than Peter sometimes, but he was a steady rock to lean on nonetheless.

He didn't return to school the first week after break, doing the work from home instead. Only after they replaced the behemoth of a cast on his arm to something more manageable did he return.

For a while, he allowed himself to believe he was normal. He tried to forget all about Spider-Man. He tried to forget about the ruined spandex in his dresser. He tried, again, to forget about Gwen.

It was all easier said than done. Every time Peter heard the distant wail of a siren, every time it set his Spidey-Sense tingling, he felt immensely guilty.

The reporters asked where he could have gone, and pondered the possibility that he could be dead. In fact, by the time Peter allowed himself to pay attention, they had already written him off as long dead. J. Jonah Jameson, the man he had the /extreme pleasure/ of doing business with, began publishing articles about how useless the vigilante always was, and how pathetic he had been for not lasting even a year as a hero. Other nicer newspapers marked him as an amazing hero, "having given so much for the city even in his short amount of time as a hero, and dying in the line of duty so soon."

Aunt May called Peter downstairs one day, telling him it was urgent.

Tony Stark's lovely face was plastered across the television screen, and it made Peter cringe. He was asked if he knew Spider-Man's identity or whereabouts, and Tony looked into the camera very seriously, as if intending to stare into Peter's soul. He said, "I can't say I do. I can say that he's still alive, and I can say that I expect him to get off his lazy arse, but you'll have to figure out that other stuff for yourself." He then proceeded to put an arm around the waist of his red headed date and walk into his building.

Peter stared blankly, he knew what Tony had just done and he knew that Tony knew it.

Tombstone had been silent, nowhere to be seen after nearly killing Peter, and he probably thought Peter dead like the rest of the city.

Until Tony opened his big mouth.

_Please let Tombstone be dead._

It was very probable, that the hulk of undead muscle had finally crawled off to an alley and died. It was also probable that SHEILD or even the police would keep a find like that under wraps.

But it was also very probable that he had hidden himself away and let his anger eat away at him, that he had continued to turn less and less human. It was quite possible that he still hated Spider-Man, even after his supposed death.

"What are you going to do?" Aunt May asked, arms wrapped around herself.

Peter knew she had honestly hoped Spider-Man was done for. "I can't do much with this cast on my arm," he replied quietly.

"What if Tomestone comes back?"

"Tony just told the world I'm alive, maybe he can pick up the slack for once! Maybe I should stop, I only get hurt! I never get (thanked) I just get yelled at in the newspapers!"

Aunt May was silent against his outburst. Very slowly, her hands clenched and tears rolled down her face. "What about those people who saved your lives? What about the fact that they didn't charge us for he care at all? What about the fact that Mr. Stark is always one step behind you, waiting to help?

"Peter you know I don't like that you can't just be my baby. I want to just hold on to you and never let go. But you have a gift. With great power comes great responsibility. What you choose to do is on you alone, forget the rest of the world." She quietly walked up the stairs.

Peter heard her door click shut even from the couch downstairs, and could tell by the faint tremble that came down the walls and into his feet that she paced her carpet.

_What do I do?_

* * *

_**Author's Notes**: sorry for the short chapter after such a long wait, guys! I've been so busy. (Writing my novel, Avengers crackfics, fangirling over Star Trek Into Darkness, the real important stuff like that.) We're down to the last chapters here though. I'm really excited to see it wrapped up so the updates should be pretty consistent from here. (Just remember... I'm very review motivated.)_


	19. Chapter 19

**_Author's Notes:_**

_Sorry for the wait, and thank you for all the lovely reviews! I'm sorry I don't get much time to reply to all of you individually anymore._

* * *

"Seventy five..."_ Breathe in_. "Seventy six..." _Breathe out._ "Seventy eight..." _Careful!_ "Seventy... Ah!"

Peter's hand slipped, and he shot a web at the pole he had been previously holding to catch him before falling. Dangling an inch above the ground, he grimaced at the pain in his arm and dropped, giving a grunt.

"How did I just freaking slip. _Spider powers!_ You stick to stuff, Peter!" He whacked himself on the face and stared up at the pole through his fingers. It was probably a hundred feet off the ground.

He had returned to the warehouse he had originally discovered his powers in, hoping it would bring back the sheer excitement he had first experienced with the knowledge of his powers. All it had done so far was make him see just how much a person could change in such a short time.

Grudgingly, Peter turned over and placed his casted arm on his back. He placed his good arm out in front of him and began what he hoped to be one hundred one-armed push ups.

On push up fourteen, his cell phone began ringing, and he didn't have enough willpower not to answer it.

"Yeah?"

_"Hey Peter! I saw that I missed a call from you while I was at work. Missing me already?"_

Peter laughed. "Hey Uncle Adam. Yeah, yeah I guess I am. I... Had a question."

_"...And it was?"_

"Ah, uh, nothing. I think I'm good now."

Peter could hear his Uncle lean back in a creaky chair over the line. _"C'mon, don't do that to me. Just tell me what it was."_

"I just kinda... I mean... Do you think the world would be better without Spider-Man?"

_"What kind of question is that? Wait! Don't you dare do anything stupid with that cast on your arm! Even you couldn't– what are you doing?"_

Peter almost laughed at his suspicious uncle. "Nothing! Don't worry, I promise I won't do anything compulsive. But Tony told the press last night that I am alive, and only like three hours later somebody was robbed in the same place I first met Tombstone. The guy that got robbed, his description was spot on for Tombstone."

_"Damn. I'm going to kill that Stark. Who does he think he is!"_

Peter dropped his head to his chest, watching his breath make white clouds in the cold air. "Just tell me what you think I should do."

_"Pete, I can't tell you that. I know your Uncle Ben would have told you–"_

"With great power must also come great responsibility. I know," he finished quietly.

_"Exactly. I can't tell you what to do, it's your turn to make the decisions." There was a short silence on both ends of the line. "But..." Adam said quietly. "It is super cool that you're Spider-Man. You've done more respectable things in the last six months than I have in my entire life. Stay safe, I love you kid."_

Peter smiled, feeling water collecting around the corners of his eyes. "Thanks Uncle Adam, I love you too."

He set the phone down and began his push-ups from one, and manage to exceed a hundred.

He attempted wall-crawling and web-swinging without use of his left arm, and it didn't work well. He was able to hold himself up well enough, but the act of releasing a web and shooting another without his other arm for balance or relief for his right, it was dangerous. He couldn't climb a wall with any speed whatsoever.

_I am so out of shape. This is pathetic._

Resting in a corner of the warehouse, he stuck his hand to the wall and unstuck it probably a hundred times. He hadn't realized just how long it had been since had done anything. It felt great to do what he had been able to accomplish that day, but it wasn't the same as swinging through the city on a cool evening, feeling like he flew miles above the world.

He was suddenly rushed by a feeling he hadn't had so badly in so long; longing for Gwen Stacy. It came from out of nowhere; and he was so choked by the invisible emotion that he could hardly breathe. Grabbing his sweatshirt, he pulled it over his head and took off out of the warehouse, running faster than he had for a while.

The warehouse was only a twenty minute walk away from the school, and her apartment only a ten minute walk from there without much foot traffic, which made it a thirty minute run on this busy Monday.

_That's not quick enough. I need to get there faster._ He didn't stop to wonder why he suddenly felt as though he needed to get there.

Peter was panting by the time he made it to the school. He made a mistake by stopping to catch his breath. He only ran a block more before having to stop.

The crowds were too thick to run through. On instinct, Peter veered off into an alley and scaled a fire escape, ultimately ending up on the roof of an apartment complex. He turned until he saw Gwen's building rising out of the urban landscape, and then ran that direction. He leaped across the buildings and stopped just short of his destination.

"Gwen's not there," he muttered. His Spider-Sense went off again, so loudly this time that he clutched at his ears.

_I'm going to have to learn to deal with that sound better. Where's Gwen? Come on, you can lead me to her._

Peter closed his eyes and slowly spun in a circle, stopping dead when his Spidey-Sense gave off a special kind of ring, then once again set off after her.

This time, he found her within seconds. She was walking down a busy street with a thousand other people around her, heading toward her place of work, Oscorp.

He had her in his sight, but his Spidey-Sense didn't stop ringing. He walked slowly along the tops of buildings staying right beside Gwen. He searched all around her and found nothing out of the ordinary.

_What's going on? Maybe it's just my imagination._

Peter inhaled sharply when he saw a small glass bottle sitting on Gwen's chest, then a grin spread across his face. Even though his Spider-Sense was still buzzing in the back of his mind, he couldn't help it. He didn't think she would have actually worn it. It made him happy to see it.

"Wait," he hissed. The image of the last promise he made to her flashed through his mind.

_I promise I'll be there when it really counts._

"What if the spider in the bottle is heightening my ability to detect danger? What if it's acting more like a radar or a sensor than an alarm?" Peter looked down to the crowd again, and Gwen was nowhere to be seen. She had descended into the subway.

He cursed and discreetly made his way down the building. His Spider-Sense increased in intensity as he got closer to the subway, and it was buzzing so loudly that he could hardly hear anything else by the time he was underground. There was definitely danger nearby, and he had to find it before it found Gwen.

* * *

**_ Author's Notes:_**

_Short chapter is short. Motivation is lacking... I really want to be done with this story. TT-TT I'm really sorry I keep doing this to you guys! BUT I HAVE SOME EXCITING NEWS. I'm going to the Baltimore Comic Con again this year, and I'm cosplayinggg! I'm going to be Spider-Girl, my own version. Which leads me to MORE exciting news. I've begun writing a new Spider-Man fanfiction that involves Mary-Jane and also My OC Spider-Girl, Nora May Parker. But not in the way you'd think! So far it's really good, and I'm super excited to post it up here._

_So, keep a look out for my new fic, and if you're going to the Baltimore Con pleaaase tell me! I would love to meet some lovely internet people there and show off my costume 3_


	20. Chapter 20

Gwen hummed to herself as she walked through the subway to her train. She was well aware that her spider necklace had escaped her shirt and was now bouncing as she walked, but she tried not to care. She hummed to distract herself because frankly, she didn't want to shove it back inside her shirt in public.

Ever since she began wearing the necklace, she was a little more at peace about her situation with Peter. She still missed him, but the sharp pain of being rejected had gone.

After watching the broadcast of his and Tombstone's fight and hearing what he said, she had forgiven him for any wrongs he committed against her. He had not wanted to fight, and the first half of their destructive game of hide and seek was played with the intention of getting Tombstone away from her apartment building. She'd been so wrong.

She still didn't want to call him to apologize, or even write a letter. He seemed to have let go as well, and the last thing she wanted was to stir up the situation, breaking their healing hearts again.

Taking a glance at her watch, she picked up her pace a bit. Her new boss would not like if she were late again, even if she did have a legitimate reason.

Just feet away from her train, she tripped over a man's foot and did a full bellyflop against the hard ground. She hit her nose and there was a sickening crack before it started gushing blood. Needless to say, she didn't make the train.

Being a New York subway station, she didn't expect anyone to help her. For a moment all she did was try to process what had happened and watch people go by. But the man who accidentally tripped her bent down and offered some tissue paper for her bloodied nose.

He said nothing, only helped Gwen to her feet and pulled her through the swirling crowds to the edge of the station.

"Thank you for the help," Gwen muttered. She put all her concentration toward her bleeding nose, as if she could stop it by willpower alone. "I'll be alright, I'll just go to the bathroom and get some more paper. Thanks again." She swept a strand of blood coated hair away from her face and made for the ladies restroom, only to be stopped by the man who'd caused the problem.

"Miss, I think you should get that looked at."

Gwen's blood ran cold. Her mouth fell open slightly, and she was suddenly, painfully aware of how cold the hand on her arm was. That wasn't warm human flesh. That felt like...

He pulled her back a few steps and even though her nostrils were clotted with blood, she could smell death on her captor. Pale blue-tinted flesh showed underneath the hoodie, and thin white lips were drawn back across pointed teeth in an animalistic smile.

"Miss Stacy, I know a place. Come with me quietly or I'll snap your neck here."

The cry for help was stuck in the back of her throat. She harbored no doubts that Tombstone wouldn't carry out his threats. What he could even want with her, she could only wonder.

"Tombstone. Lincoln Tombs, that was your name, wasn't it?" Looking at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw the grin drop from his face. "Mr. Lincoln, I can't help you."

"You're exactly what I need, little advanced biomechanics student," he barked.

"Please. Anybody but me," she begged, pressing her eyes shut.

"Dry it up. We're going to my lab now."

Gwen wasn't given a second option. Tombstone easily hefted her over his shoulder and took off.

Being a New York subway station, nobody helped her.

* * *

It took Peter longer than it should have to get off his perch and into the subway. He knew he would be too late, tears stung his eyes before he made it all the way down the concrete stairs.

With his heightened sense of smell, even over the New York filth he could smell blood. He had a chilling feeling that he knew whose blood it was.

He heard dying shouts from down a subway tunnel and ran after them.

People shouted indignantly as he shoved his way through the crowd, but they were his last thought. There were shouts of alarm as he leaped onto the wall of the subway, then drained away by the whir of a train passing.

He let his Spider-Sense lead him to them, only to hit a dead end. His heart was thudding heavily in his chest as he pressed his fingers against every inch of the wall, looking for some secret door. His Spider-Sense became dull, as Gwen and her captor grew farther and farther away.

Even as he was pained by his failure to save Gwen, to fulfill one promise he'd always meant to keep, his head felt clearer than it had since he had the inclination to find her an hour prior. His head had stopped buzzing, and he had time to calm down and be still. That was the most intense bought of Spider-Sense he had ever experienced.

A hollow feeling filled him as he collapsed onto the damp subway tunnel. He flipped open his cellphone to call Aunt May, only to find he had no service.

"Just great!" He rested his head on the wall and sighed. "I don't even have a suit to wear... I'm screwed. No, Gwen's screwed."

* * *

_**Author's Notes**: OH NOES, he got Gwen! How original of me, no? This is another one of those chapters that I just don't like. Sorry guys!_

_I want to let you all know that of the entire story, this is the least planned part. I'm totally winging the ending here, and it's gonna take me a while to figure some of this stuff out. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED._


End file.
